The House

I knock slowly at the door,
No one answers,
No ones home,
I walk in quietly,
Drop my bag,
In the kitchen,
Burnt out fags,
Cold hard walls,
In grey and black,
Not a stain,
Not a crack,
I'm not frighened,
Just alone,
Not a scrap of furniture,
Just a phone,
I walk towards it,
Keeping to the walls,
Don't know why I'm here,
Got no one to call,
I ascend the stairs slowly,
No banister rail,
I glance at a picture,
Of a girl so pale,
I look at her eyes,
She looks like me,
All by herself,
Stood unhappily,
The bedrooms are empty,
All other walls are bare,
Just that one picture,
Should it be their?
One room seems familiar,
I'm not sure why,
Perhaps its an omen,
I start to cry,
Please tell me, where am I?
I don't want to stay,
But why I feel this,
I can't really say,
I run back to the picture,
Full of fear,
A jolt of recognition,
Its me, I live here.