How much is a home celebrated,
When it is given a life,
As if everything has congregated
To make it sanct, new, and decorated.
Over the years, it loses its glimmer,
Converts to a sojourn, in some other years,
It is too old to habitat for humans.
They pack and leave in search of a new home.
The house slowly dies,
But as a synonym of afterlife,
Its death is leisured by some living,
As they multiply by ripping the dead aside.
Supriya Sahu 
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