Four brick walls surround me,
Forever, trapped inside.
Windows shut, doors closed tight,
Wish they would open wide.1
Darkness looms over me,
As outside the night grows late.
Door knobs won't turn,
There's no escape, from this house of hate.2
Windows locked forevermore,
No way to get outdoors.
This house is like prison,
With solid brickwork floors.3
No bed in the house,
To rest when I'm ill.
To escape from this place,
I sure would kill.4
Even if myself,
Was the one to suffice.
To get away from this place,
I would end my own life.
Author notes
Dont worry, this doesn't reflect me in anyway, i'm perfect, just a bit strange.
A contest entry
- Draw Me a House by Claudia Norman.
600 points, ended January 15, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
wonderful, powerful imagery
Dear Writer,
This is wonderful.
Even when we are "perfect" or "just a bit strange," our houses can be sad, depressing places.
I loves the imagery about the door knobs...such a basic part of a home, but it was very powerful that yours won't turn.
CN
-
wow
That is pure poetry, to be able to write about something you have little or no experience in. Beautiful job! I love the rhyming scheme! Gorgeous!
Adding your comment:
