Miles into rural land, where no honk or squeal of the city could be heard, no urban life,

The summer air was tempid and so thick you could slice it with a knife,

And with all the lights gone, the stars burst in the sky and could fill your view from left to right.

In this place sat a big, white cottage on a farm in the night.

This was a home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.

 

In this cottage a family slept in their quiet darkness, shielded from the chaos of light.

From the father to the youngest son, they all felt how they lived was a delight.

This family was pleased with their location and their sheltered minds.

However there was one unsatisfied with the world outside shut so tightly behind the blinds.

But this was a home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.

 

Therefore when her discontent was spoken, the idea was swiftly dismissed.

Anytime her thoughts were shared, she was told nothing better could possibly exist.

As time passed her feelings grew stronger, but still no one cared or gave enough thought.

So eventually her anger grew as she was told she could think nothing but what she was taught.

For this was a home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.

 

Her heart became wicked and dark with hatred rooted in her soul.

She kept it in and plotted her escape, planning to leave quietly without it taking a toll.

Until the day she was told of her family’s joy that she released her thoughts from ignorance.

Bottled up anger silently exploded out of her from their arrogant assumptions of her difference.

She hated this home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.

 

One night as dark and hot as the rest, she crept down the stairs and went out the door.

Out in the night she walked to the barn for she could leave quietly no more.

Her loathing guiding her, the gasoline was snatched and taken back to the sleeping house.

Now she emptied it all and slid the matches from under her shirt, quiet as a mouse.

Goodbye to this home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.

 

In this time she did not pause, not even for a moment.

The matches were thrown and she left so her escape could have no postponement.

On the road away her thought was, if a house in the country burns to the ground

Do the people inside actually make a sound?

Then she smiled, no because this was a home of solitude, of undisturbed peace, where no strife could be found.