Where White Walls Meet On Painted Cracks

Where white walls meet on painted cracks,
and tears still streak the face of dawn.
Where trouble lies and hopes abound
in places lost long ago.
Wounded souls meet, and sit, and stare
and condolences are bitter words to speak.

An empty house stands,
empty, save for the prisoners within its weary walls.
Walls of words and hopes and lies,
of stone they weigh still more.