Wooden chair
Not so stable
I sit there
Staring at the table
Grandfather clock chiming
I wasnt able
To find silver lining
In the family labeled
The wall paper is peeling
Mold seethes through the air
I have a bad feeling
Of what's below the stairs
Standing, I shake
Setting aside my silverware
Something breaks
The silence by a hair
As I make my way down
The rickety, chipped stairs
In darkness I drown
A sign to beware
A hoarders mess
Fills the basement
I cry in distress
As I hit the pavement
A rope on my neck
So smoothly blatant
Sleeping at the lack
Of oxygen, I'm complacent