The lights are on,
But no one is home.
The candles are lit ,
And the house is burning down.
Nothing left but rubbish to the ground.
Bits and bobs lost in parish.
Now no ones lights will be on.
And the candles are little puddles of wax .
Lost in the fire that started it all.
YOU ARE READING
the depths of my despair
PoetryYin & Yang . The good ,The bad. A balance between the two. This is the dark finding it's light through the depths of despair.
