Ancestral house of the bastards

Houses of the blind

Made of glasses and the light

No questions asked 

And nor do they care  

 

The people are happy

always so chatty

Their smile never reach their eye

the clothes they wear

a well-fitting lie

the love they share

the roll of a die

 

I left that sight,

for my poetic plight.

a departure filled in delight

 

Now I wander,

a failed commander

Eating stale dreams for dinner