House of Dreams

July 7, 2012
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A famine has crept out in the land
Where my soul hasn't the heart to reveal its plans.
Barren, dry, and crumbling sand
Holds up the structure that caring commands.

Dream of a forest, lush and green
Where willows weep along the streams,
But jaded favor there remains--
A faux peace and a muted scream.

In attempted success, the day turns to black.
On shaky ground, I fall through the cracks.
Winded and worn, tattered and torn,
I am in my land now. There is no turning back.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

lilliemais said...
Jul. 9, 2012 at 10:37 pm
Wow this is fantastic. I got shivers while reading it - good job.
WhiteHart This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Aug. 1, 2012 at 8:54 pm
Thank you!
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