There are too many cracks in the surface,
I have fallen through their deep before, walking,
over the floors that's held underneath this ceiling,
which has been dropping it's color for many years,
fading away right in front of my eyes.
Amongst this old chaos and misty memories,
I can see a child, still dancing here,
although the surface of this house
is bleeched and has molded since long;
inside of me, there is still a ghostly memory,
of how it used to be, and the ghost of me...
is still dancing across these cracked floors...