A house upon a hill
The house old and abandoned
Broken down from many years of walking through the dark

She sits upon her throne of beauty
A variety of yellow and brown grasses make the meadow which runs
Into the forest of dead trees
Birds soar through the skies

The house gets worse as time progresses
The faded shingles falling to the ground
Shutters barely hanging by a hinge
A rusty fence guarding her from her demons

Society watches as she falls apart
Tears dwell in her window sills
A frown upon her steps

Construction workers come, armed with machines of destruction
Their sounds of tick-tick-ticking rings in her hallways
As they tear away her damaged walls

With the removal of each haunting memory...
Slowly,
Patches of beauty from the blue sky and green fields are revealed

Before long there is nothing left of her,
But a pile of dirt and holes where the fence used to stand

The construction workers come now and again
To replenish what they have torn down
Planting maple trees, daffodils, and new green grass

She is now free to be with the birds
Flying with them rather than gazing at them
Through her dusty windows