Greens and silvers enfold

An endless and vast façade

To bits of smothered asphalt

Lying on a deserted neighborhood

-

Velvet petals of wisteria crippled

Walls of stoned edges burnt with ashes

By graze of sun staining deep scratches

To a marbled pathway twinkling miseries

In a torn and hunted ambiance

-

'Twas gray and sick in its looks

But then showed brilliant lights of blue and violet

Died and blown away

Peeling a century of its finest glorious days

-

Vines of ivory adorned such gaunt face

Echoes of flapped wings break the inconceivable silence

The place has its own shadowy existence

-

Marked by a house ages ago scattered craftiness and mockery

Tongues blazed red cursed every being who laid a step on it

The ending of them are a horrible event to gossip

-

Even to blunt their names was a sin to commit

Magic that strongholds life chained with rage and obsession

To humans bound to erase their very existence

-

Beauty has its irony of creating havoc here

Dances of lilies ought to protrude bliss

Silent hums of cicadas freed traumas

Just as morning dews brought angelic whispers

-

Black as its darkest the water on the pond

Streaming with elegance as far as I have seen

My eyes flicker with hurt matching the sky

Trapping lucid tears of desolation

-

Numb and little I stand against the trunk of a tree

Staring at the house I once lived

Curse my whole soul to show up

I killed this place and painted blood

Blood of witches running through my thick veins

I carved my name in the bark

-

Feigning that someone wanted a piece

Of lustrous luxury I inherit

But unbeknownst to them

Still lived the witch, your highest maiden, Medea