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People are like houses... by ~Gzbit:iconGzbit:



The smell of dust, and old perfume pass. This ancient place is losing it’s foundation. The things that gave life to this weathered home, have left it to dwell. The sun sets through cobwebbed windows, and empty hallways. Wallpaper peels, revealing the mold that hid under thick beautiful layers of paper. It was easy to tear, and it screamed even when silenced. The picture painted, spoke to me. This place, speaks louder than words. With it’s torn interior, it tried to feel. To bad there’s no fixing a broken home.
©2009 ~Gzbit
:icongzbit:

Author's Comments

We can only take so much, the poem is pretty much self explanatory.

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September 22
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