Random short stories

My Crown Of Mold

I built a house out of wood,

Merely hours later I shared it with you,

We tuck in as I put on my hood,

But the walls crack and the floors chew.

I don't flinch or snear but you do... Oh, you did.

Years have gone and we ask if its still our home?

I say yes but your lips forbid.

Now more years go — the house lays bare and cold.

Alas, theres still one person inside,

Inside this crumbling house,

Smuthered by groud, crowned by mold.