This house in all its glory,
This house in all its pride.
Manicured daily to tailored eyes;
In beauty and in size.

There was a love of look and want of heart;
Money was thrown at the hands
That would put this dream to start.

And so the space took on a form
Of design both great and bright.
And delighted were the owners,
Who wound their smiles tight.

Step through the heavy wooden door
To polished floors and pricey goods;
Marble, paintings, and some leather,
As all good houses should.

Visitors left the house in awe
Laced with envy diluted.
For such thought was poured into the house,
And how perfectly it suited.

But look no further than that, or see
In the livings, inconsistency.
Stay longer than a visitor should
And see what no others could.

This house devoid of humanity
Had no love to be known.
In all the workings of the look,
This house was not a home.