SHE LIVES IN A GLASS HOUSE
Behind windows and doors that wait to be broken,
She holds a fist full of stones, always is she throwing.
As her life goes by they gather with stones of their own,
She preaches to the world behind her mask of many,
She is not seen but a hypocrite with a mouth of words phony.
She lives in a glass house built just for her, pretending always,
A false smile, two faces with a third never seen, few know of how mean,
Sad to say that I do know of her name, hides behind the book with a face.