A derilict building

holding onto life

The windows have gone

as well as the lights,

yet if linger

stare there within

you might catch a glimpse

of a time

long passing.

Where people worked

long hours

everyday

took home a meager

un rewarding wage,

yet if you listen

you might hear someone laugh

their talking about

the change in weather

at last.

So cold it was every morning

heading for what

is now a derilict building

so cold inside

as they worked

their hands barely alive,

what could they do

dont work dont eat

the fiddler

plays the tune.

Now it is gone

that era so long past

of it only that building

stands as a curse,

a shell that was hell

stripped of its glory

shamed that it hid 

such a harsh workhouse story.