The Sad House

The house on the hill was beaten and battered,
The curtains in the window were stained and tattered,
It leaned with the wind, first this way, then that,
It was home to none but mice and bats,
But, if its old walls could talk, it’d tell a story
Of a long ago murder, unseen and gory,
The person who lived there was a horrid sort,
A lawyer who was thrown out of the court,
He retired to that house to live his life in drink,
He’d eventually die on his own, so you would think.
Then suddenly one day, he cleaned up nice,
Put on a fresh shirt and loaded the Old Spice,
Went into town for a while, checking the scene,
But all knew him to be grumpy and mean,
Except for one woman who took pity on him,
They soon became friends, her name was Kim,
Then one day, he just disappeared,
And death for him was what she feared,
So she went to that house, small and worn,
Expecting her findings, and preparing to mourn,
But he was alive, and heavy in his gin,
And he smiled when he saw her, and invited her in,
She went in the house and saw bottles on the floor,
Then heard the soft click of the lock in the door,
She turned around, told him she couldn’t stay,
But he stood before her, blocking her way,
He grabbed her arm, she tried to run,
He laughed aloud like it was great fun,
Yet, the more she struggled, the angrier he got,
Till he just grabbed a gun, and she was shot,
He realized his sin before long,
And with another shot he was gone,

It’s been four years since the day,
And even now people stay far away,
So the poor little house stands alone,
Never able to again be a home,
So, if there’s a moral, I would it deem
That not everyone’s who they seem.