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White Bungalow
Hand-painted walls and a flimsy floor,
French windows and a metallic door,
Witnessed our ups and downs,
Held our secrets and battle plans.
We started as strangers from somewhere,
Like wanderers coming from nowhere;
We built an empire made of trust,
We scrawled our dreams in pixie dust.
As time passed and life evolved,
Our realm collapsed, quivered, trembled;
Truth turned into a dagger in disguise,
Faith became a scalpel of feverish lies.
Souls left wounded and tormented,
A bond once whole, now torn and lamented;
Madness, treachery, and folly,
Bitter mementos etched in me.
So I decamped, I won’t return again
To this white bungalow of pain;
And I will never, ever forget
This haunting place of deep regret.
