Young's Tempest

To live in a house,
of black and dark scarlet.
Where minds clash in rheumatism.
Lives change, and men are meek to women.
I was told they would rule one day.
But to what avail?
A puddle of blood, a dirty bruise. Life.

To live in a house,
of orange and green velvet.
To wake up in the morning to love.
To run freely in the sunrise, as all do.
Where minds work in unison.
Where death is the beginning.
Trees of prosper, a sweet orange. Life.

To live in a house,
of blue and purple satin.
Where dark corners hold weeping children.
Where minds shut down, in an everlong cry.
To work in solitude.
To see depression seep through the walls.
To hold the final moments before the first and last attempt.
A hateful sea, an empty shotgun. Death.