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A part of me, you rarely see, yet even could phantom.
You steer into my broken windows,
Only to see yourself in bitter fragment
My doors are shut, and nothing can seep through the cracks that overwhelm these silent walls.
The attic is full to capacity.
Everything is jam packed, exit is non existent.
The view from the outside in is unattainable.
And from the inside out, it cease to exist.
Though the outside of the house is beautiful
Everything, anyone could ever imagine.
White fence, fresh cut grass, even a sand box for the children
Even a dog house for the dog.
But the house is bare and empty.
No Love resides here.
- by JackRabbit247 |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 04/13/2009 |
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- Title: An Empty Home
- Artist: JackRabbit247
- Description: This poem is nothing out of the ordinary.. Use your imagination to make sense of it.
- Date: 04/13/2009
- Tags: empty home self freeverse
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Comments (1 Comments)
- UC Poika - 04/22/2009
- I believe you. It would be empty. Interesting irony.
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