The House

See the house
See it go away
It’s old and overgrown
Mold flourishes
Weeds have made their throne
Bricks burned and crumbled
Rooftop sagging at its belly
Dust is the citizens
Cobwebs drop their sorrows upon the rotten wood
Rain drops bloom into the cavities
Drowned of invaders
The mice make not a whisper
The flies land lazily to this enchantment
It drags its wings drunkenly upon the floor
Spiders become plump and burst their fate
The house buries its own grave
Never to be saved
Weather to weather its presence still there
Beholding its bedraggled wear
Algae sags upon the house’s shoulders
Lazy oldness outlasts
The cookie cutter houses a vast


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