Glass House
Day to day she wanders,
her mind constantly muddled.
Her pain is so unbearable
yet she hides.
The world is coming down on her head
she needs protection she needs help.
Her roof, her soul is made of glass
fragile and gentle she won't survive.
The world is falling down on her
crushing her glass roof, her home.
Where can you hide,
if your house is made from glass?
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: