Poetry (The beginning)

The Dusty dark

I stare out my dusty window

The one that my parents haven't yet removed

I wish that they didn't have to go

But my parents are resolved

I've watched the workers break the down

With hammers, chisels, buckets, and saws

I watch with many a frown

But sadly they are still gone

The windows that I loved so well

That shed light into my darkened room

I know my parents try to do good

But the bad they do is worse than hell

The light was lime a wakeup call

To bring me into the world

But now that my windows are gone

My room is like a darkened dusty hall....

(A/N)

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