A desolate house
empty, devoid
once filled with life
its wood always warm
a desolate house
deep in the dark woods
taken over by leaves
untouched by a foot
a realtors nightmare
a young man full of pride
who's heart is too big
washed up in the tide
a nice diamond ring
a love never there
a dying dead flame
a head full of hair
bound to another
a small tiny crack
a staircase now fallen
the very same wood
now singed black
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it hungers. it breathes.
in each wall, they seethe.
the victims inside, the ones he cant see
they beckon they call
they seethe and they seethe.
this poem is about my original character Eliott Blanchette.