The Old Barn
Out on Route 45, past Williamsford,
the folks have a saying,
and with hesitant lips I repeat,
"Don't go messin' round the old barn."
The skeletons, literal and otherwise,
make up the walls, and only to be held
up by phantoms limbs,
the remnants of dead desires.
Take a picture, write a poem,
but leave the structures core alone.
Don't say you were not warned.
Don't ever say you were not warned. |