Overflowing with twigs and lost history
A place that has gone to waste
Though beautiful in its prime
Vines everywhere climbing here and there
Doors fallen off henges
Dust everywhere
Primary colors repent for losing their blue
The paint faded and gone
Once bright and vibrant
Now stripped of it's luster
Here everyone worshiped unnegotible moods
Like ghosts they still linger
Their voices still heard
Calling from a past both depressing and hard
Their ghosts could even be felt
Out in the yard
The daffodils never grew here before
Or at least
Not in any pictures that I have seen
I try to do my research
Before investigating a haunted scene
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