The house

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A/n: does this makes sense? I guess it does.
This thought has been nagging me for a long while now. I hope you understand what I have to say. Read, vote comment!

Enjoy!

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Once, a man made his house
Beautiful and well furnished,
Window panes, clear and smooth
All the doorknobs well burnished

The best house in the society,
He told himself
No one deserves to live in it
But of course, himself

He started to live there,
As the master of the house
Nothing moved without his order
Not even a little mouse

The man grew old and then he died
The house went down to his son.
The son jumped up and down in joy
His happy days had begun

He became the master,
The owner of the place
And signs of its last owner?
He had all of them erased

He let no one in there,
But the maids and servants
And to all the rest,
He even closed the air vents

The son when became old,
Left the house in his will
To his eldest son
To do with it, as he would will

Father died, son took over
And then tore down all the walls
He didn't like the build of it
So he changed it once and for all

The house became bigger
The son more and more glad
He thought his father would think
That's he was such a nice lad

Now the old house
was bigger and the best
All the others onto its owner
We're nothing but pests

The new master of the house
Told everyone the house was his own
Of course the house in this shape
Had not before been known

His son got the house
When his father expired
The older servants and maid
He had them all fired

He didn't like them,
Too clumsily, they worked
The new ones were quicker
The master only sat and smirked

The house was his now,
He was the master
He would do as he pleased
Rip and tear and alter

At last when he died,
his middle son took over
He frowned, displeased
When he looked at it over and over

So he had it all torn down,
And made it better and bigger
And if anyone said something rude
He didn't fear to pull the trigger

The house went down to
The eldest son when he died
The son kicked out his brothers
And lived there only with his bride

The house's new master
Thought himself luckiest of all
Such a big house
Was his to rule after all.

The house went down
Generations to generations
To sons from their fathers
Who made a lot of alterations

Every one thought,
He's the 'master' of the place,
No one even think,
That it was just a waste

No matter how much money
They spent on it,
They died in the end
The their sons got it

Not even a single coin
They got for themselves
All of them left
In the big halls and shelves

The masters of the house,
For it, treated all as slaves
But they didn't notice
None took it to their graves

The house remained there,
And they all eventually died
They couldn't have taken it
Even if they had tried

'The curse of the house'
No one ever understood
They tried to keep it for themselves
But no one ever could

They decorated and furnished,
Like they'll live there forever
But it remained just a wish
The forever came never

So as the sons kept taking over,
And fathers kept dying
The house, if it could've talk,
Would tell them to stop trying

But as it could not,
The fathers kept writing wills
And the sons kept becoming 'masters'
To do what ever they willed

halaenoor

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