Solitude

a poem about the sad things in life we dwell on and hide under.

I built my house of deceit
upon the sands of a forgotten beach
I carved my windows from truth
and a web of lies spun into a roof.
I have walls made of
the concrete past
and I tread on the things
that did not last.

I built my house of deceit where
joy and sorrow in due time meet.
But one day if ever rains do come
and wash my sins away
and hail breaks through my windows
and the snow cools my pain

I will be left unsheltered
but i will be left.