House of Dreams

It is the prison of my dreams that sets my real life free.

Part 1

The house of my dreams

Has only locked doors

And barred windows

With no way out.

The basement of this house

Is magnificent

With rooms ready to be discovered.

It serves as an escape from the upstairs world.

Part 2

There is a room for the man

Who worked so hard to clean up his son’s toys

That when the room became the least bit messy,

He killed his son.

 

That room became his prison

One built with his own hands

One haunted by his own demons

One that he can never leave.

The man cuts himself daily

With his son’s plastic knife.

But the pain is too small, the cut not deep enough

To let the man escape.

Part 3

We found the basement

By mistake.

It was bedtime for us

And we snuck away.

We meant to use it as a base

A secret hideout

For our Lego creations

That one day, would win a competition.

When we were in the basement

The only reminder of hardship

Were the muffled voices

From upstairs.

When all we heard were muffled voices

And all we held were Legos

And all we saw were each other

Life seemed so much easier.

Part 4

There was a room for a woman

Who loved books more than anything

And in her past life

She allowed herself to be blinded.

Her love of books turned into

A pride of being smart.

And with this pride

She offended all those who knew her.

The woman has bloodshot eyes

That come from late-night reading.

Her only book is a tattered copy

Of Les Miserables.

Now she, like the man

Is trapped in a prison

Of her own making

That even pain cannot help her escape.

Part 5

There is a room for the girl

With red cheeks and shining eyes

That feared being alone

But never knew it.

The girl had many friends

But took them all for granted.

So when they left

She broke down with grief.

Now the girl,

Like the man and the woman,

Is trapped in a jail

That she made herself.

Part 6

Once a door opened.

Someone entered.

Somehow, we all knew

To be frightened.

This someone who entered

Walked all through the house,

Dressed all in black

And said not a word.

This someone forgot to close the door

So I escaped.

And measuring probability

I ran.

I found another house.

One where a young girl

Was locked out of her own home.

I couldn’t help her.

I made it to the wood.

And I looked back

To the house that was mine,

And had held me prisoner for so long.

I thought of the little girl

I couldn’t help.

She dreamed of going inside her home

While I could only dream of escaping mine.

Reviews

[barton smock]

hey kid, love this. part 2 and 6, and the other parts, too.