June 24, 2010, 10:56 PM
These walls,
The bare floor,
Wooden doors and glass windows,
This house makes not a home,
But an open prison,
Free to leave,
But no choice in returning.
The bare floor,
Wooden doors and glass windows,
This house makes not a home,
But an open prison,
Free to leave,
But no choice in returning.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.