I remember this place
Does it remember me too?
The attic where I used to hide
The place where I grew.
My one-eyed-doll of straw
the puppet lying in the corner
my blunt toy shear in the bassinet
still not feeling any sharper.
The place has the unheard whisper
of the days I was a little child
Not minding the tainted effluvium
Recanting every word mum said.
When a rope took me to the corners
though anomalous may it seem, those ways
it needs a suture, my heart
Still suspended in those aerial days.
P.S. Tried the poetry prompts for the first time by http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/wordle-1/