Take a walk inside.
The dark rooms.
See what humanity left behind.
I see you.
Walking down the street.
Lurking behind closed doors.
I can smell death.
Behind closed doors.
Come and play.
THE DEAD GAME
Woe is the word that can best describe a room such as this.
A room left to decay without concern or tribute.
A room full of books left unnoticed and uncared for.
Woe is the day when such a deed becomes common place.
For books need to be revered and touched daily.
They need to be cherished and loved.
Woe describes a world where the written word is secondary.
Secondary to silly movies and TV shows.
Secondary to reality stars.
Woe is the feeling in my heart as I look at this room.
I want to pick up all the papers from the floor.
But what is the use if no one cares?
A house left to decay.
What a sad sight today.
No family in sight.
I gaze at it in fright.
Trees and bushes overgrown.
A darkness sets the sad tone.
Hedges block the sunlight.
Nothing lets in the light.
I can hear the creak of old bones.
The house settles with moans and groans.
It looks at me with mournful eyes.
I will buy it and take the prize.
The house sits empty.
Deserted for years.
Dust its sole visitor.
The grand piano waits for a voice.
Someone to play its keys.
One last song before
it’s too late.
Before its beauty is lost.
Before it joins the dust.
Come play me.