This House
You look at this house and see a closed door.
The windows are shattered,
You had really hoped for more.
The somber night air leisurely asphyxiating the cracked walls.
Decaying trees surrounding the isolated, aging asylum.
This structure will eventually fall.
The exhausted grass has departed its normal routine of growing.
Each tress of grass has faded, and turned extremely dense.
The ground is sowing.
You traipse around the back side of the house.
You spot a crucifix on the lifeless loam.
Tis chipped and decrepit, no life remaining.
You feel as if you are in a death zone.
You stride into the house like a curious child.
Blood is spattered throughout the ancient tomb.
Tis no longer red or mild.
Dust covers every surface.
Making everything appear old and worn, although they are still beautiful.
A smile arises on your pensive face.
“I’m home.”
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