The Mansion

 
I love this mansion,
But there are far too many windows...
To open half way each morning light
And close half way more each night
The night breeze
Chills this broken home
The wind flows through
A broken soul
The dead is speaking to me
The death is within this house
It is within me.

I am at a humble peace with the death I meet
No longer do I meet my fate with contempt
This house is caging me
Never again will I be free
I am an orphan, I am a new born child
Thrust into the cold world a devil has contrived
In this house, I am no longer home
In this house I merely meet a ghost of my own.