The house on the corner

No one remembered to post the mail.
She never cared anyway.
With her rusty picket fence
And favourite colour door
The for sale sign would eventually fall
And sit there window ledge smiling
Everyone walks past not noticing
But maybe that's ok
Doesn't seem to mind anyway
With dust sweeper cushions
And burnt out fireplace
The drainage needs fixing
But the old owner moved away
Years last but no body calls
Because the number 22 is on her door
Hidden in the curtains
are moths around the light
Smashed up glass
And fake happy smile
Waiting for maybe
the owner to come back
But he's allergic to all of her weeds
That tangle round and suffocate
Spiderwebs decorate every four walls
Hidden away under the basement
Lies a corpse of a dead boy
Oh meigi I told you not to run
Who wants a run down house?
There's a castle next door
And when the rain pour
 it sweeps on the floor
Crying anguish against the storm