LP ( / Arizona)

Unhome

This town, its idleness encompassing
Lonely streets leading lonely people
Home to a place they wish
They didn’t call home
Snow falls lightly, covering
Deserted Christmas décor
American flags, Victorian porches
Inhabitants lock the door
And master the art of hiding

Disguising their sorrow
With a hollow glance
And they live
Without once participating
In this magnificence
We call life
Hanging on to memories of the day
The day they had a dream
That got lost after years of living

by Lauren Prue

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