This house we built,

of poetry and scars.

Walls painted a blue-green hue,

faded and fallen, dead like stars.

Sorry Philadelphia,

I don't belong here anymore.

Where every door swings heavy

and heat escapes through the floor.

The house I loved, abandoned and sealed,

burning like these scars

that haven't quite yet healed.

The slightest touch, and these walls will crumble.