Home Date: Thursday, 6th April 2017 @ 10:00:12 PM AEST Topic: Sad Poetry Contributed By: softerware My house, my home, my place. My own, not yours, this space. I fill it with my own collections; Mismatched fragile recollections; Hopes unmet are kept within; Good deeds unnoticed, even sin. All my comforts here await. Caring not if I am late. This door a threshold to myself; Where failure can absolve itself. At last the master of my day; The curtains close upon the play. And though the world will offer sway; Behold the walls its crush belay; Be silent! Hush! And go away! This poem is Copyright © softerware Important note: ALL POETRY ON THIS SITE IS COPYRIGHT. If you wish to use any poem for any purpose, please either EMAIL Mick from the sites feedback form, or go to the AUTHOR'S site and EMAIL the author for permission. If you Email Mick for permission on any poem that is not his personal works, he will endeavor to contact the author on your behalf. This poem comes from Your Poetry Dot Com https://www.your-poetry.com/ The URL for this poem is: https://www.your-poetry.com/route.php?page=poetry/PoemDetail&story_id=184066