Boarded up doors,
And old wooden floors,
Dusty book cases
And shattered vases
Litter the ground
Upon which they found

Ivy has grown
Over my bones.
A pillow of moss
Cushions my loss
And warped windows hide
My pain-ridden eyes
From you.

Boarded up windows,
Sunset peeks through.
House in foreclosure,
Just like my future;
A squatter’s paradise
Haunted by creatures like

People come, people go,
Realtors come and show,
Enter through cold iron gates
Perchance, to dare to renovate,
This house of bones,
And silence its ghost
(That’s me).

Weak foundations
And termite infestations
Are simply not worth
The time and effort
To mend and repair,
So they left me there
To rot.

Lightning ignites
The tinder outside,
I breathe in the smoke
And pull my legs close,
And letting the heat
Sweep over me,
I burn.

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