It has four walls
and two windows,
but it's pretty,
even if it's dark.

It has one table
and two chairs.
It looks full,
even it's empty.

It has no floor,
or pretty plates,
but only dust,
painted with blood.

How many people died
and how many pained?
But they builded a beautiful house,
even if it's forgotten.

Something inside me tells me to stay,
to open the windows,
the sun to see it,
May Day to smell.