Her home is a prison

The break of dawn brings renewed hope

Oh !this day will be the last… today the die will be cast

What will be the reward…? The hand of God or the devil’s fork

For her home is a prison

No more she reasons

Many-a-night praying the children wouldn’t listen

But a locked door is a wall to those who have no key

Many-a-night her voice sweet and clear as a banshee's

Shattering the illusion of the perfect picture on the night stand

Gorged and gagged as the prisoner she so claims

Now she hopes to do more harm than maim

For death is a wife to a man whose heart is in chains

Picturesque

Take a walk with me...
Hold my hand, I’ll show you what I see…
Vast land and seas
Arid ground and different seasons
The beauty of the rising sun; giving meaning to the dawn
The splendor of the sky above; bringing solace to the Eagle
The warmth of the open air; causing the rise and fall of many heartbeat
The blanket of cover from tree branches; casting shadows across the meadow
The wetness of the dew; heralding the manna for the day
The rain drops on the ground; sprouting forth new life from the earth
The shinny stars; taking guard over the moon
The brighness and whitness of the moon; illuminating the night
The silent night; rocking the sun in its cradle
The loud snore of the fat man; sending shivers down our spine
The toothless smile from the babe; selling the story of the innocent
The celebrations; drumming into our hearts the necessity of our culture
The heartfelt praise; thanking God for the grace to see the beauty of the world he created.
I bet only one word could describe all these: picturesque