Depression Ghetto

The house shivers and sighs, naked bones exposed.

Groaning against gentle breezes, wishing  to collapse,

but the skeleton stubbornly holds.

Sunken eyes devoid

of life stare out, judging the

world who so cruelly neglected intended purpose.

White picket fence, the last defense from

decay, remains locked tight,

taunting passersby’s with KEEP OUT

-as if anyone wants to COME IN.

But, the weary WELCOME mat still invites

us in . . . if we triple-dog-dare

to know the ghost of who you once could be.

 

 

 

 

 

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