Keeper Of The Lighthouse Poem by Lilly Rose

There is a lighthouse on the hill.
It overlooks Humanity.
The white exterior is freshly painted.
The furniture within is new.
The air no longer smells of gasoline.
Rather of a light perfume.
If you slide the couch from the wall,
Chip a fragile layer of paint.
You will discover the scars of a fire.
A flame meant to destroy and leave
Scars that were never meant to heal.
Courtesy of a previous occupant.
The caretaker spends her time
Covering up the evidence,
That just beneath the surface of
Humanity's Guardian Angel,
lies the proof that she has been ravaged
and perfection is mere illusion.