Brooke

This White House on a Hill where you wish you could be, Sets up a lovely, romantic scene. Inside the house is mostly a home, But anger builds and secrets grow. Accusations flow like swelling venom, Toxins spread and infect the victim. You hide in a dark corner, escaping the wrath, Inside a cavity the poison rests. They think you don't know, but you hear every word, Sometimes drowning behind a closed door. They'll never know, They don't understand; The jabbing, stabbing, piercing blade. So do you want to live in the White House on the Hill? Full of wide open spaces and a warm, cozy place, Though acid rain erodes every day; The flowers may be blooming, But foundations are crumbling. Yes, this house is mostly a home, But do you dare to face that unknown? Frolic but fall, Snuggle but sting: Those dreams turn to ash, In that White House on a Hill. Would you let it eat you away? 'Til you're jaded; a faded memory.