Styrofoam house
My house is made of Styrofoam
I can’t even call it a home
Every room is filled with gloom
Everybody is a bomb
The haunted house on the hill
The Goddess and king of hell
The fires, what they consume
No one is around to tell
Feeling low or feeling high
All I wish for is to die
I beg, but my days resume
So why do I even try?