White picket fences,
freshly cut grass,
three door garages,
shiny new cars,
two-story houses,
are what we see.

But no one wants to acknowledge
the pain
dying to be seen,
dying to be heard,
dying to be erased.
The pain
hidden behind closed doors,
and blinded windows.
The pain
lurking within walls
of the freshly painted
home sweet homes.

I’m sick of playing dollhouse

By A.H