The scary poem...

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When we sold our palace we covered it with paint.


Our lonely castle stood by and watched without complaint.


Maybe he thought it was best to hide it from their eyes.


That sickly taupe paint only acted as one coat of disguise.


The sharp edges of the permanent block letters.


The blurred drunken swears about her boyfriend, a parrot and the beer.


The absurd, scary poem will never makes any sense at all, but the manic depressive drunk womans ramblings forever live on that cold wall.


It was a sweater on the character of our long time home.


Something to read when you were in the attic alone.


The history of our kingdom cant be covered in taupe paint.


somehow, that scary drunken manic depressive womans poem made it quaint.

Created: Jan 05, 2012

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EllahitsREC Document Media