Rundown Houses

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The slow decay of man
Just like the houses of an old city
Talk of the town once
And now fallen into disrepair and despair

Baked in the sun, drenched in rain
Concealed with a layer of moss
Bereft of a loving touch in years
Eternally waiting for its reckoning

Passers-by can just marvel
How things got so bad
What misfortune had befallen it
How did we come to such a pass?
What did we do to be deserted?

Not all is gone, a mending of beams here and there
And a fresh coat of paint can resuscitate it
Or so it seems
As the aches and cracks have reached its bones
Hollowing it out, sucking dry the life force
The house not being home anymore
Just a shell of the living, breathing man it once was

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