There is this place,
That is very dear,
It has feeling, thought, emotion,
And tears.
It withstands,
Heat,
Cold,
And sickness,
It gives,
Love,
Rejection,
Desire,
And fear.

It was born,
Out of love,
And grew with peace,
Sadly,
It was damaged,
Out of much grief.

Something,
Has its’ feeling,
Something,
Has its’ love,
Something,
Makes it fear more,
Then a hail storm from above.

Nothing,
Does it hold now,
Though its’ family loves it so,
Next to it they stand now,
But to it,
They don’t seem close.

A house with water damage,
Is what it does posess,
Ruined in and out now,
Repairing it ,
Seems far fetched.

Lines through and through,
Looks centuries old,
But is so new.

Its’ tears destroy it more,
For its’ heart feels so torn.

The entry to this house is shut,
Afraid to let in anyone,
A hostage to itself it leaks,
The pipes drip red
Like rusty leaves.

This house is I,
This house is me,
Poisoned,
Waiting for a cure willingly.

Damaged by water,
Swollen throughout,
Unnaturally contained,
No window to leave from.

This house with water damage,
Now waits for its’ remedy,
Time can only heal it now,
In a house of water,
In and out.


 
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