This place, it is now just a shell of a place,
The caretakers have had to leave forced away by ignorance and injustice.
Its façade has not changed,
But its inner core has been wounded and left to struggle on its own.
Only the echoes of the laughter that once was faintly lingers,
As an icy chill creeps through its solemn hallways.
Painted upon its walls are the shadows of times past,
That are now just a memory of one who cared and gave from the heart.
Only the Spirits now remain,
The Spirits of those who gave their all so that it could thrive and grow.
This place, it is now just a shell of a place,
For in the absence of love,
The weeds will grow up and suffocate all that remains behind.
No honorable life can survive in this scarred environment,
For its ambiance has been tainted with the sadness
Of broken hearts and wounded Spirits.
Those who know the real truth will scatter into the wind,
Seeking solace and new shelter elsewhere.
This place, it will carry into the future its tragic past and those to follow
Will forever sense the essence of its considerable losses.
– Susan Kubert
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