Poetry

Poem: “Dead Empty House”

empty house

“Dead Empty House”

My home is an empty home.
The inside is so empty, so black.
I have been gone for so long.
And I am hoping one day I come back.

The garden is just there as I die,
to cover up the empty dead house,
yes, filled with infinite lies.
A husband just cries for a spouse.

I cry, and cry, and cry,
cause I cannot feel a thing.
Lord help me live and not die.
But know Lord, I have nothing to bring.

How can’t they even see this?
But yet they still can’t see me?
Why won’t the winter just freeze?
How can the house just be?

I just can’t see what they see.
There isn’t even a thing to be seen.
It’s all a bad tease of the breeze.
Only Lord knows where it’s been.

If you haven’t yet figure it out.
Let me let you know it is free.
The garden represents my clothes.
And the dead empty house it is me.

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