I worked on a rundown house

That had been shut down

I was told of its tales

From the death of an infant,

To the crack addicted women,

To the witchcraft in the attic,

To the little old lady that had lived just down stairs,

I cried, then I smiled, for I now knew,

What I did was going to help save a life

we were going to make it better

We were going to make it a shelter

To give a home to the homeless,

A second chance for the weary,

And hope the hopeless

THE HOPE HOUSE

This poem is real. I worked on a rundown shelter for women over the 4 of
July weekend, and it had been shut down at Easter time. All those things
had happened, from the death to the witchcraft. We hope to make it a safe
place for women to go for help not just a place to do drugs. And if you
would like to learn more about it just email me my email is in my profile
Thanx.