How Like a Song Unsung,Unmusical
How like a prison is my cubicle
Within four walls, I feel I am entrapped.
How like a song unsung,unmusical,
My state of mind so far has not been mapped.
Inside my heart I used to have a room
Where space and grace and nature all did dwell.
But then a harsh man led me to my doom
The details I will never want to tell.
My walls fell down like Jericho of old.
My love became my enemy,my hate.
With rubble my heart filled,alas, not gold.
These cubicles each write my inner state.
What seems to be outside is found wit
No love can ever last when lovers sin.
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