This House

[cueru]

The walls are cracked. Cracks
that reveal bare brick wear wide,
barren grins, sinister smiles
with a stony gaze.
Tiles tilted, tainted paint.
Grey.
Cold, lifeless dust covers
all memory.
The sun set, a phantom
of fear stalks the stock of
stacks of stone and
of hopelessness.

This house has been broken
for quite some time.

You haven't been here lately,
not often enough to know each
step that each
step has taken in decay,
denying entry to the above.
You sit. In bliss
you sit among ignorant
walls without windows.
Here, the blinds are drawn,
concealing holes of truth.

This house is broken.
Will you fix it?