| Monday, November 2, 2009
and then perhaps that was a smoke screen
a facade, nothing more than a paper brick wall.
yet the sun still tries to push through,
although all attempts have failed,
so the grass on the other side is greener,
and the grass on this side is dead.
and perhaps the sound of happy voices and merry laughter
would wake it and the soft green grass and cheery flowers
shall once again grow in this red cracked glass.
the purple piggy oinked 7:48 AM
