The Gingerbread House
Some call it quaint the liquorice windows
Glace Payne's to hide in in silence
All is quiet in the gingerbread house
each crumbling brick conceals a tear
As tiny hands try to hold together the pieces
of broken dreams and sugar coated insults
The walls enclose and threaten in a courtyard wafer
ice cold the frosting across the gaze
The children line up six at a time
tormented by the gum shoe
a pretty house the gingered bread home
Empty inside the fireside grate
And in the picture perfect garden
No bird is to be found
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