For lack of a better title

   The Empty House

The empty house stood still and silent,

Alone with the trees and the wind that chides it—

“Don’t leave us alone with the tenants that rome

And long for a home!

The dawn creeps between broken glass

Lighting of courtyard of dead grass,

Walls now crumbling, destroyed

With a vicious blast

What scenes of love,

 What scenes of hate,

The old house had seen

I know shall never abate.

For I had lived there once.

And now I stand before

The tortured door

And I bow my head

I had lived there, once.

-Karly, 8-31-12

This poem makes me sad. Its so...depressing, but I don't have any inspiration left for it to make it less bleak. When I first got this image in my head--the image of a broken down house standing on a grey, windswept hill--It didn't seem as dark as it does now. I don't like writing Gothic poems, or even almost-Gothic poems. I suppose I should go to bed and read it again in the morning. Most things seem better in the sunlight of a new day.