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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1040615
I need imput on ways to change this. I like the formate but I think it needs more ground.
Winds
Howled and whipped against the rickety
Old shack on the vacant street. The floorboards
Creaked
At the weight of the old man’s
Numb feet dragging on the floor of
His house.
Every slab was a
Lost cause with the
Plywood rotting. Areas of it sunk in
Mercilessly and grinned
Every time the old man slipped on them.


She looked
At him through the same
Very picture he talked to
Every day. Her photographic smile
Mocked his
Energy less status.

Broken mirrors hung on the slanted walls and
Enjoyed distorting the old man’s
Figure.
On occasion his happiness was to sit on his
Recliner, but it wasn’t really an
Escape from his
Inner demons
That
Invaded his
Soul filled with Sin.

The wind picked up a little
Obeying the
Officer of its command. Shreds of
Littered newspapers replacing insulation danced
Around the mans head
Taunting him. He tried to shoo them away but all the
Excitement threw him off balance and he came
Tumbling down.
One by one the boards moaned at his weight and gave away. He
Came plummeting down and lay on the hearth,
Appearing to be
Relaxed. The power of the crash
Erupted the walls, makinG them cave in, bringing the hOuse Down,
hIS body giviNg it cushiOn buT leavinG it as nOthiNg but rubblE.
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