The Black Death I feel empty. I feel darkness pass inside me and through me devouring me into pure emptiness. I feel my walls cracking. I feel my suds rot and my inner structure collapse in upon itself to relieve my suffering. I wish this upon myself I no longer want to exist. I am a house. I am a house that wishfully rots away. I once felt the joy of being the shelter from the storm. I once felt the joy of being filled with a family that cared for me, kept me and cherished me. I felt the joy of love on all holidays . I was decorated with care and I stood with pride because I was the most beautiful house on my street. I felt more beautiful than the palace here in my city of London. Now it is al