House of Anger
In the evening of my anger,
My blood has boiled to scorch,
The Ravens voice is rhetorical unto my answers
The clock will chime until it has ticked me off
The Shadows continue to play wild games;
Of dark and trickery,
Wrathful, like a widowed soul,
Lost to all bewitching madness,
Scraping at the walls, for their true identity,
Yes I believe they can talk,
They have told the many secrets,
I'm forced to speak of now,
In this house,
Chandeliers are hung like the victims of loneliness,
Shining bright at a flickers chance,
Royal paintings adorned throughout halls,
Showing solemn ancestors, burning my heart
With their wicked eyes,
Into my bedroom, where the sheets
Cut squarely against my skin;
Causing yet another irritating chafe,
Rubbing until my flesh falls off with a toss
Of the covers
Trapped by my house of anger!
Copyright © Shane Solomon | Year Posted 2011
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