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Published:April 2nd, 2008 10:20 EST
Glass House

Glass House

By Jennifer Smith

He lives in a glass house and likes to throw stones.

I am left outside all alone.

I'm just the girl standing in the rain.

Left to deal with so much pain.

He became judge, jury and executioner.

I became a wonderer.

Forced to face life's realities.

Evaluating the technicalities.

The rain pours down my face.

Unable to hide it; Like water through lace.

My heart lies crushed in the palm of his hands.

I'm left dealing with his reprimands.

Here I stand in the pouring rain.

Trying to figure out how to wash away the pain.

All faith is lost inside those glass walls.

At my door heartache calls.

Yet he who lives in the glass house still throws stones inside.

What he's hurting has been left outside.

I'm just the girl outside in the rain.

Now I'm dealing with both our pain.

I am standing outside his glass house.

He's standing in the remains of the glass house.

The sky has cleared and the rain has now ceased.

And the pain has now been released.

You could shatter more than a structure of bones,

If in your glass house you throw stones.