The Empty House

A Woman's Contemplation

She sits and stares

As the dark creeps in

It chills the air,

And brushes her skin


The house is empty

Brought down to bare bones

She sits and stares

Broken and alone


The fire is low

The embers forgot

Like fallen leaves

bound to rot


She thinks of the people

Passing on the street

Day by day, walking by

But still, they never meet


She sees the sadness

She knows the pain

But still those strangers

Walk past again


Those people, she knows

Will continue on

They don't see though

How much they are alone


She sits and stares

Hearing creaks and cracks,

And stays in her chair

Letting the house relax


Her house is a tomb,

And she is a corpse

The same as those people

Twisted and warped.

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The Empty House
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