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The cold gray structure caused disconcert
Upon the barren landscape. Forgotten.
No people caring for its crumbling hurt.
No joy remaining in the halls. Rotten.
A place where men once laughed and mourned
Now empty of emotion.
Black crows perched on the gutter, scorned
By scarecrow’s implicit stare. Muted.
In the wasteland of unsated decay
The house surrendered to nature. Broken.
There was no strength in the oaken parquet.
Only despair in the walls. Unspoken.
Once a home, now a structure. Faded gray
Copying the colorless death inside.