Sick House

Lonely children on the walls
Echoes sketch the lonely halls 
Empty hearts and empty eyes 
Who will trial for little white lies?
A stand still house built with brick 
Dying slowly, the moss makes it sick 
You'd think boards and beams would hold 
But glass and paper are the mold 
Penciling in the carpet and roof 
Simple, sweet, but I stay aloof 
Whatever could have torn down this fragile house?