A late sunrise, dewy leaves
And a scented breeze.
Heaven for an optimist
Hope for the downtrodden
The promise of a new start
Beginning with a new day.
Just below the heaven there seemed
Another of the millions of bereaved
Lay a cottage, in layers of ruin
One look, and you pass on unaffected
But multi faceted it was like its inhabitants.
A show from above, n’ deceased from within.
Just a little farther inside,
And you could smell the decay,
Not of corpses, but of living men I say.
The beautiful items that were decorative once
Now lay ignored, half broken and turned.
Layers of dust coated everything
And yet in all, resided a bunch.
Three individuals, known as a family by the world,
But who themselves had lost the meaning of the word.
They dwelled in hurt, misery and hate.
Lost the love that once had been
And broke themselves and the bonds that seemed.
First a crack, just a speck of dust
Had now exploded and left a ruckus.
To the world they seemed like everyone else
Just another house, with just another family
All was well, and will be well.
The inmates came out smiling wide,
They seemed so perfect and always right
They came and went
They did their work,
A flourishing generation
Worth it’s blood.
Not once were the sorrows known
Not once were their smiles suspected
‘cause they were just another house
And just another family
In the jungle of the world
Where all was the same and nothing unchanged
Where every aspect had a side of it’s own
And every man with a story untold.
~k~
