In This House
Hate on the streets
Hate in town.
Nowhere to hide –
Even at home.
In this house
We count our deeds.
In this house
Shout to be heard.
In this house
Don’t try pity.
In this house
Stick to guilt trips.
It’s a contest of
“who has it worse”;
Mouth shuts closed.
Sounds shut out.
Hide behind the doors
Eyes always behind glass foils.
Each leaf grows
To a sky-high tree.
I know it shows –
The fear it’ll fall on me.
Out of my lips
Keep falling tears
But the eyes are dry
So my words are a lie.
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