Dilapidated house poem
The house leans and creaks,
like an old person getting out of their chair,
against the wall, a creepy, crooked picture is staring at you,
a tap dripping relentlessly,
spiders crawling, their sticky cobweb vines running down the side of the dilapidated house,
a creepy doll staring at you, holding an axe
blood prints all over the floor and doors.
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