Houses MAG

March 26, 2014
By Anonymous

Distorted with color,
Mocking the silence,
Sit the houses at the end of the street.

They are uniform and static,
Wishing for some life
Colors are there, struggling
To make up for their emptiness

I like them better when upside-down
Only because what little life there is magnified.

A lifeless community with little hope;
A colorful fa├žade tries to make
It seem loved, but the hot whips
Of moral decay stain my legs and the
Vacant eyes of my neighbor stream
Out of consciousness

The world around them is bright,
But the air is sour and the pathway
Isn't straight, like my life

Imagine such a life;
to see nothing but beauty,
and never even imagine rotting away.
Beauty is key,
Only if one would sense to understand.

But if one can't understand, one only sees death.
Nothing can ever deny that fact.
So I will keep on my path of my sweet,
Proud life.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Apr. 1 2014 at 1:20 am
Headlikeavolcano BRONZE, Shorewood, Wisconsin
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment
Reminds me of the street from Edward Scissorhands. I love it

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