In a House of Broken things.

Oldie but goldie, Poetry

There lived a broken man
In a broken house of broken things,
Where he waited for his death,
And the peace that it might bring.

But wait was all he had to do,
And wait was all he could do
As things kept breaking down.
Little else could he do.

A broken chair, a broken bed,
A broken heart, a broken head,
Broken promises, broken dreams,
A broken man in a broken bed.

He thinks of times unbroken,
And his broken will makes him sing,
In the dark and broken silence,
In a house of broken things.

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