It's just how it is. <br />Sorry. <br />Condemned, <br />like a building no longer fit <br />for habitation, <br />where the dry rot has spread to our hearts <br />and the termites are the tiny monarchs <br />of our crumbling ambitions. <br />When I was a child, <br />we always thought such houses <br />to be haunted. <br />Maybe our young selves <br />heard an echo of some truth; <br />that a haunting was coming. <br />Not for these broken-windowed wrecks <br />but for us. <br /> <br />Sorry. <br />It's just how it is. <br /> <br />Sleep tight.<br /><br />Ben No<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sweet-childhood-memories/
