this isn't a home.
it isn't sweet.
it has never learned to nurture.
it doesn't know how to comfort.
it isn't warm nor inviting.
it is a sinking hole.
it is abandoned and run down.
it's falling a part.
the foundation is crumbling.
there is no going back now.
no remodelling can fix the damage
that has been done.
this isn't a home,
it isn't sweet,
all i do is weep.
YOU ARE READING
The Rose and Her Thorns
Poetrya collections of thoughts, feelings, emotions that have been put into words and that have been gnawing at my brain. check out my other poetry book 'among the wildflowers.' ••• poetry collection explicit language all rights reserved completed O6...
