Oh building,

You are in disrepair,

Rotting and caving in.

Oh building,

Why isn't your mother home?

 

You're laughing at me

And the clouds are not amongst themselves.

They touch the emptiness,

And the rhythm of your mocking does not falter.

 

Oh building,

You are soon to crumble into nothing,

Will your mother be home soon?

 

I will step on your flattened body.

See how you laugh then,

Decrepit and abandoned.

Oh building,

Will your mother be home then?

When you are dirtied for years,

Derelict from when they left you.