Feeling within

I walk into the shabby little house that sits at the end of the street. Gray shingles hang like crooked teeth. I pass by when I head off for the day; eyes always shying away. Sitting as an empty shell - cold to the world around it. I walk farther in, chills running through my veins. Desolate and alone this house is. Built in earlier days when a house was an extension of a person. When the creator had a vision for the simple elements. Hate courses through the architecture where love once flowed. Water stains drip down as tears. You've seen angry houses, mad houses, and houses shimmering with happiness but this house is broken and lonely. He wishes to be torn down, all the while hoping against all else that he can provide comfort once again. Old and tired. Creaky steps, sagging arches. Existing but not living.