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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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