We Don't Laugh So Much Anymore

We don't laugh so much anymore, you say,

I think inside, I'm crying.

I feel that deep within our walls,

Our little home is dying.

Lying can be lying, or just

Not telling the truth,

But a house can comfort us no more

With termites in the roof.

They feed upon our worries

When we try to run away

They burrow in our foundations

More and more each day.

And in the night they'll bite us

When we try to sleep.

No blankets can protect us;

Inside our heads they'll creep.

We can try to cover up the holes

With plastic and concrete,

But inside they they'll thrive all the more.

All they do

Is breed.

Their bites are not so deadly,

You'll live another day,

But for some, they say, the throbbing, burning

Never goes away.

I don't know how they got here,

Or how the eggs dispersed.

I just know we can't ignore it.

I think it's getting worse.

I'm sorry, I don't really mean

To pester you this way,

I'd just thought that this second bout,

I'd hoped,

They wouldn't stay.

The walls are getting weaker,

And though it's hard, I know,

If we want a healthy, happy home,

The termites have to go.

Author's Note

Sorry about any spelling mistakes... :-S
What do you think about the last stanza? Is it too weak...?
image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nscanlonphotography/
^^^^^^^^^^ this guy has some AMAZING photography!! ^^^^^^^^^^

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[Madison O'Dwyer]