She had everything a woman craves for.
Money, jewels for the seven-day week,
a husband that followed her like a pet,
two kids, bright, fashionably spoiled,
except limits to earn, to amass, to glitter.
To this end, she worked like one driven
by an unknown dark force night and day.
Her frail body, finally rejected the stress.
She lay dead like Cleopatra, killed by the viper
of avarice, love of fame, of endless ambition.
Her mansion, like a house forever haunted
stood on the deserted grounds, a warning,
a menace to the prospective buyer, a boarder
or a tenant curious to know the mystery behind.
Her husband and kids felt the unseen presence
that haunted their day-to-day life, driving them
to go after the very things that killed her.
In the winter of discontent, they decided
to leave the dark house to the dark soul
till it found peace and solace, by God’s grace.
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