Slight Over Exaggerations

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
this is a poem based on some over exaggerations of my own home and people's misconceptions of it's supposed perfection; their own exaggerated views

Submitted: December 01, 2011

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Submitted: December 01, 2011

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This White House on a Hill where you wish you could be,

Sets up a lovely, romantic scene.

Inside the house ismostlya home,

But anger builds and secrets grow.

Accusations flow like swelling venom,

Toxins spread and infect the victim.

You hide in a dark corner, escaping the wrath,

Inside a cavity the poison rests.

They think you don't know, but you hear every word,

Sometimes drowning behind a closed door.

They'll never know,

They don't understand;

The jabbing, stabbing, piercing blade.

So do you want to live in the White House on the Hill?

Full of wide open spaces and a warm, cozy place,

Though acid rain erodes every day;

The flowers may be blooming,

But foundations are crumbling.

Yes, this house ismostlya home,

But do you dare to face that unknown?

Frolic but fall,

Snuggle but sting.

Those dreams turn to ash,

In that White House on a Hill.

Would you let it eat you away?

'Til you're jaded; a faded memory.


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