The house,
That I grew up in,
Was split in three,
With two-thirds yellow and one-third bright pink.
In the first,
With its off-red bright bursts,
Worthless words and angry eyes,
Were soon etched inside me.
The house of two,
Though bright, felt blue and grey.
Underneath its roof,
You and your man remain.
And two gold stars hang high,
And let out to great sighs,
With emerald eyes.
The house,
That I grew up in,
Was triplet shades,
Each parceled hue partitioned by each face.
In the third,
Filled with words that I heard,
"Is walls of gold,
And bright-filled souls,
That soak in light for days."