Untitled Poem

There was a home once. It was filled with people, and life, and joy. Once. The people left. Now it is a house.
There was a house once. It kept the world at bay. It was safe, it was secure, it was sound. The windows were broken. Now it is a cave.
There was a cave once. Its walls were made of wood. The wind and rain and bugs and birds wore it down to dust. Now it is no more.

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