Here lies the legacy of the woods, the heritage in there is mind-blowing in a dread were my visitors, with their hijacked aims, they were looking at me,
I am lonely-built house, inhabited and one that never had neighbors, my visitors pressed my doorbell and that when their ears ached in anguish from the way I shrieked,
I am an empty wooden house,
a one dimmed without even a fraction of light,
In there was a broom tossed away by a devilish witch,
I am smelling odorless and little bit stinky,
In my kitchen, I have an empty pantry and an abandoned pan that no one even dared to hold, nothing I like myself, except for the area I’m where I am expelled from the toxicity the world, to me dear visitors who felt relief leaving me, I need to tell them
I am hurting, I am aching please come back again,
I am a beautiful house.
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