Rundown Houses
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