Outside <br /> <br /> <br />There is no movement <br />yet the skies are breathing, <br />frozen in solitude neglected <br />flowers look down. <br />The once bold black iron gates, <br />rusting from the clouds acidic tears, <br />there is no beauty here, <br />just reminders of a forgotten age. <br />In between the cracks on the moss <br />covered paving, <br />the devils fingers creep through, <br />onwards and upwards, <br />to the heavens, <br />bypassing this place, <br />Even hell rejects this place. <br /> <br /> <br />Inside. <br /> <br />The dust cleans itself. <br />Collapsed books upon the shelf, <br />sleeping from lack of touch. <br />A thousand years of verse, <br />suffocating in the silence of <br />the house. <br />A constant drip, <br />Echo's from room to room, <br />a reminder that something <br />still flows though here.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/outside-and-inside/
