'This a Manor; 'Tis a Place
'Tis a manor; 'tis a place.
It resides, you remain oblivious.
What resounded amongst its four walls,
Stays within its four walls.
Only the inhabitants thereof,
Canst give due account; ask them,
If you may, with all fine grace.
'Tis a manor; 'tis a place.
It resides; you do feel quite excluded.
A desire within, have you not?
To know of what is not?
To know of the days that it has lived,
Once alive, without you then,
Housing lives you wished you had.
'Tis a manor; 'tis a place.
The ones that used to live their are in their graves.
Their beauty that lived is now erased,
Thoughts of them now erased,
Pictures of them are in your warm hands,
In the good days of their youth,
The good youth that you had not.
'Tis a manor; 'tis a place.
It resides, but the people do they not?
Memories of them, they are short lived.
So be my life, short lived.
The great big empty hollow places,
Are as empty as my heart,
A void of dead memories.
The Clown
29 Sep 2015, 4:08 pm
