The House On The Hill Poem by BRUCE MARTONE

THERE A HOUSE THAT SIT
ON THE TOP OF THE HILL
AND A GIRL AT WINDOW SITING STILL
WHILE THE BLUE SKY TURNS TO GRAY
AND THE ONCE A NICE DAY
HAS MOVE ON IS NOW GONE
WHILE THE GIRL IN THE HOUSE
START TO PACED
BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LIKE
HER FACE OR HER PLACE
SO SHE COVERS THE MIRROR
LEAVING NO TRACE
OF ANY REFLECTION OF HER TO SEE
BECAUSE SHE NOT LIKING
OF WHAT SHE BECOME TO BE
NOW SHE GRAB A BOTTLE
SAYING VODKA WITH DO
AND SOME PILLS
NOT SURE WITH ONE TO CHOOSE
SO SHE TAKE THEM ALL
WHILE MUMBLING TO HER SELF
THAN GOES TO BED
WHISPERING GOOD NIGHT TO HER SELF
BECAUSE THERE NOBODY ELSE
ACCEPT FOR HER DREAMS
WHICH ARE IN PLAIN SIGHT
TILL SHE WAKES UP
IN THE MORNING LIGHT
NOW THE SUN IS SHINING
THE CLOUDS ARE WHITE
WITH PLENTY OF TRACES OF BLUE
MAKING IT A NICE DAY
NOW SHE MUST CHOOSE
SHE SAID TO HER SELF
LIVING OR DIEING
OR LIEN TO MY SELF
THAT I'M HAPPY
LIKE EVER BODY ELSE.