HOME | DD

Description
Broken homes, lie scattered around this dead end neighborhood,
Of neat hedges and tamed roses,
And lazy lawn mowers on a Sunday morning,
And of colourful gardens, with matching houses, brimming with colourless boredom.
No one is to be seen outside, day or night.
The streets that claim the lifeless houses
That shall never be homes,
Are falling into the deepening darkness,
Their fate now dependant on the lack of communications
The absence of compassion, the total inexistence
Of spoken words between neighbors, between friends.
And the silent souls that scream behind closed doors, curtained windows,
Cry out to some distant hope,
Only visible through this thick void that we now touch.
And the children that were reared by these ‘homes’
Are now mere shadows
That go into the making, of the night.

Description
Broken homes, lie scattered around this dead end neighborhood,
Of neat hedges and tamed roses,
And lazy lawn mowers on a Sunday morning,
And of colourful gardens, with matching houses, brimming with colourless boredom.
No one is to be seen outside, day or night.
The streets that claim the lifeless houses
That shall never be homes,
Are falling into the deepening darkness,
Their fate now dependant on the lack of communications
The absence of compassion, the total inexistence
Of spoken words between neighbors, between friends.
And the silent souls that scream behind closed doors, curtained windows,
Cry out to some distant hope,
Only visible through this thick void that we now touch.
And the children that were reared by these ‘homes’
Are now mere shadows
That go into the making, of the night.