The ground I'm on is sinking
My foundation isn't sound
Cracks run through the walls
And the ceiling is coming down
With a little water, paint and dress up
I can fake the curb appeal
But underneath the siding
Lies the rot that I conceal
The structural beams are broken
Stench from all the mould
One strong gust could blow me over
All the duct tape lost its hold
The hinges on the doors
All rusted shut barring entry
The screams that fill the halls
Haunting ghosts I have plenty
Spiders keep the corners
Of the attic space No light
Injecting in their poisons
Paralyzing me sometimes
The floorboards missing pieces
Creek in darkness down below
In the basement with the demons
Of my past and all my woes
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Author:
KTay (
Offline) - Published: April 23rd, 2025 16:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: MinaH, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
A great analogy in this poem. Well imaged and good read
Thank you so much!
Powerful analogy in a poem that unfolds its content rapidly. It never lets go, from beginning to end. "Spiders keep the corners / Of / the attic space No light / Injecting in their poisons / Paralyzing me sometimes". Loved those lines in particular. Well done, my friend! 👏🌹
Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed it.
You are most welcome, my friend.
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