Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Do you want to tell me that everything will be fine? That my home away from home will always shine, and when I go home everything will be as simple as these god **** rhymes? (fine) As optimistic as I'd like to be, the truth is that home isn't always full of laughs and good times It's a feeling that I would imagine a sunset experiences when it bleeds through the lines Like a waterboarded painting leaking over the sides Because even a home is a home when a parrot in the corner of a crowded cage cries and confides When the people inside it's broken record of a mind, are filled with resentment, angst, love, and lies Because even a home is a home when I find myself arguing with a parrot all day,  you see, Home feels like home because you cared to stay Because you would sit there and listen to her tell you that she's scared all day And you'd stay to wake up to a parrot singing gunshots And it's arguments about the same 'ol lot And you'd listen to it whine after its fought With the invisible man that took his life because of the gang green rot
0
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
The Parrot that Sings Gunshots
Do you want to tell me that everything will be fine? That my home away from home will always shine, and when I go home everything will be as simple as these god **** rhymes? (fine) As optimistic as I'd like to be, the truth is that home isn't always full of laughs and good times It's a feeling that I would imagine a sunset experiences when it bleeds through the lines Like a waterboarded painting leaking over the sides Because even a home is a home when a parrot in the corner of a crowded cage cries and confides When the people inside it's broken record of a mind, are filled with resentment, angst, love, and lies Because even a home is a home when I find myself arguing with a parrot all day,  you see, Home feels like home because you cared to stay Because you would sit there and listen to her tell you that she's scared all day And you'd stay to wake up to a parrot singing gunshots And it's arguments about the same 'ol lot And you'd listen to it whine after its fought With the invisible man that took his life because of the gang green rot
I miss the sounds you made, and I still hear them everyday
ZWS
Written by
29/M/American
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem