Outlaw Window

My window
Has a gift.
It never hides
The view
Of the paradise.
There are angels of grief
In my paradise
And I worry about
The Angel in the House.
The world wears
A painful color.
I am a broken flower pot,
Just a tiny
Nod by the so-called
Social Zombies
Will make me
An outlaw.
I live on my own terms of
Passionate grief
That is too meaningful
To be happy.
I try to keep the lights on.
My window
Never elopes
With the view.