Derelict

Mon, 02/12/2018 - 18:33 -- htabit

Empty walls 

Empty halls 

An open door

A broken floor 

 

Memories lay strewn 

Broken furniture hewn

The presence of the past 

The only thing to last 

 

Ghostly reflections 

Otherworldly inflections

Shadows cast

With no form 

 

This ghost house is still lived in. 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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