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The Perfect House
August 21, 2021
We eat from dirty tables
and listen to old women cry beneath our feet
We listen for our mother’s
who cry from our soiled words
We trash our perfect homes to not make the others feel so bad
But we weep by our bedside so others will never be mad
The trash overfills with broken bones we deny are broken
and our fridge lies empty as if the grocery stores have never woken
A place where spring cleaning was never done
will allow no one over
we cannot be shunned
The slaves slay themselves and eventually rot the rest
© Julia S., Haddon Heights , NJ
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It's often easy to compare my household to others as I'm sure it is with many. The poem kind of creates an illusion of a lazy household but beneath it all they really do have a lot of problems. They try their best but it's hard to accept they might have been trying for the wrong things this whole time. At the end of the day, they work themselves overboard.