Waiting on hate

Everything has been seen under this somber sun, the rains have poured by the gallons on top of this home.
Unstable from the beating,
Up kept only by writings on its walls.
This house has seen it all,
This sun has burned dim among
Oblivious souls. Shadows the same as white washed sentences out the mouth of serpents.
Everything revolves around soft foundations, waiting to crumble and bleed through the cracks, waiting to exhibit the familiar pattern that failed last week.

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