Glass House Poem by Angel A. Lockwood

I once knew some people who lived a glass house.
Each carried alot of stones
Much of what you might think, they could do without. Often making shady comments,
To each it's own,
Not only dogs bury bones,
The less fortunate were losers from the day they were born. While sleeping in on Saturdays were for the Dumb, and could never be fun.
One day the Glass house was suddenly
completely gone.
While the only things remaining
Were the people and the words they once owned.