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The Prisoner and the Gaurd
I have no where to go
I have no Home
Where I live, is not a restng placce for a heart to go
It’s brick, by brick, with no where for the soul to roam
It’s tumbling steps to fall down
It’s a “ Family room” to never be used
A solitude where friends never come around
It’s a power to be abused
It’s a constant yearning to leave
Where I live, is not a place to dream
It’s lavish cement made to deceive
Where I live- it seems
A parent has turned gaurd
And a child has become prisoner
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