Creaks speak fluent memory through this aged home.
drifting away after hurried speeches,
Into whispers that hold no weight in our minds.
“I am here”
My ignorance shall never comprehend its’ tales.
The only truth known echoes in silence,
seen in it’s painted cracks and the smell of candles covering the must.
“But once I was young”
Opportunities present themselves, pasts buried as results.
No eulogies for the dead from those who sense no heartbeat.
No remorse from those who do not sense ever a life.
“I am broken, but still I stand”
Does it grow, or was it made to remain forever unchanged?
no choice is had by what is built by the hands of man.
And yet Its flaws are alone its’ own failures in the eyes of its’ maker.
“If I fall, I was built to fall”
Blame lays in forgotten caskets as immortal vision are reimagined,
But it’s foundation is what is truly admired,
And with mercy we clear the land of It’s dilapidation.
“A life is servitude to those unconscious of your exploits.”
