i walk down the deserted lanesempty houses, empty streetsthey empty my soul alike.i see the very house near by.house i wanted to get intoundo what i couldnt for years.years went by, time continues to passeven now.i wait, even more now.perhaps, what else?i see it deserted.my great injustice, my own prejudicemy own hate, my own love,stands soul less.what do i do now?bereft. love finds its way.flows out of me, you, the housesymbols of loss, symols signifysymols remain, love, subdued.what that stole my pen awaygives me back.grief that made me fall apartbinds me back to the pen.i write, its all that i have now.i write of you my loveas i see no traces of recovery.all i am left withis your grief and the pen.the house, stands tall, proof of my injusticethe reason to write.
