i build a house <br />no one likes it. <br /> <br />the house is empty <br />i put some chairs. <br /> <br />someone comes and <br />says, this house is <br /> <br />lonely, it needs <br />a sound <br /> <br />it is boring and needs <br />a paint <br /> <br />i put a tree beside <br />its stairs <br /> <br />i grow another <br />fence <br /> <br />i put a lone bulb <br />on a post <br /> <br />and leave the house <br />for good <br /> <br />that is what the <br />house is made <br /> <br />there is always <br />missing <br /> <br />something is <br />always wrong <br /> <br /> <br />this is the house <br />of regret <br /> <br />it is the monument <br />of all our wrongs.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-monument-of-all-our-wrongs/
