Home. Sweet Home. | 01/30/2009 |
 WhEn PuSh CoMeS tO sHoVe
Slightly disturbing. Please read.
The scratches on the wall,
They’re the things that tell it all.
From brick, to wood, to
Wallpaper and paint –
Leaving a bad taste in your
Mouth, like
Yesterday.
The holes in the door and the
Cracks in the glass. Sometimes
Life is just like that. Teardrops stain
The old wood floor but it is the
Screams that echo
Nevermore.
Dusty and old, used and forgotten
Left to rot for better things –
Cleaner things. Things of beauty
Not of pain. Things of rainbows
And unicorns and puppies and
Rain.
The clouds are parting;
The shadows sleeping.
There’s new paint now and the
Gore is no longer seeping. Dusted away,
Swept under a rug. The oak door opens
Letting out the flood.
- this layout was made by simple layouts.
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