A/N: For the poetry bootcamp competition, prompt #047: change. Sirius again. ^^


Leaving Home

It got worse every year.

The look,
the smell,
the snarky attitude
and the glares that followed him all round

It was more a hell than a home
and yet he returned each year…
to be his mother's chew toy,
his father's whipping post
and to bear the gaze of a brother
he failed to understood
and the mutterings of a house-elf
who licked the grime off his parents' shoes.

No more, he'd tell himself,
but he'd return anyway.
No more, no more –

One day,
it really would be no more
and then things would change.