Perspective

The pen is leaking on my thumb.

I draw the roof a sharp, steep pitch.

The windows look a little dumb,

squinting like a nervous twitch.

The chimney’s smoke is tangled wire,

a messy ball of black and gray.

I didn't draw the warmth or fire,

just the things that got in the way.

I forgot to add a gravel path,

or any door to let a person in.

It’s just a box of math and wrath,

where the walls are always paper thin.