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By Wendy Patterson Submitted by Misti Date: 2002 Mar 16 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.16.22.40.12831]] |
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The sound of metal against the floor Depression takes over our hearts once more. The walls close in as the doors slam tight Silence owns our lonely night. Listen close and you can hear The hushed secrets behind each fallen tear. The walls own stories of plenty to tell These very walls which build our hell. A single mother, three mouths to feed A teenage girl addicted to speed A forgotten grandma who stole to get by A homeless prostitute trying to stay high Now ridiculed for being inside, but who had listened when each one cried. Now standing alone, they claimed to have learned Promising that they'll never return. One by one they filter through Old beds are filled with someone new, but the life we choose once out those doors If we'll give in or fight our wars. A question of whether we'll choose to grow It's an answer only our hearts will know. |