The falling of bricks and stones,
To lay on the ground as bones,
From the shell of old,
the new arrives,
The cold passing of time
not a surprise...
A goodbye,
good riddance?
To an eye-sore...
a pittance?
Amongst the dust
and walls stained with moss,
Surely,
The time spent there is not really lost...
For bricks are only bricks, now,
But something is gone... somehow.
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