This is certainly what it
hath become ,a grave ,
had thought of it ,
as a place of happiness,
peace ,joy and charity ,
at its best nevertheless ,
it hath become a grave

The last place to think of
it hath no longer become
' Home sweet home ', nevertheless,
a place causing depression
ditch home in pain ,
carry the burden outdoors
like bees after sugar
face filled with rage

" Everybody thinks I'm moody ",
they just don't know
even befriended the sultry weather
My teeth always out
covering the dark abode innerly
'tis dreadful to mention

How should 'un love ,
be elated with birds ,
be at peace with outsiders
if abode hath become a grave ?


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