There were three buildings all in a row,

each with different colours and stories to hold.

The walls and paint were full of pictures,

of people past, some sweet, some bitter.

Some were in love,

while others were numb.

There was one who lived in the shadows,

Whose skin never touched the sun.

The frames were powdered with a thin line of dust,

That grew thicker and thicker, as the days past.

The halls inside were fearful and still,

The only remains were bottles of pills.

There were three buildings, all in a row,

each with different colours and stories to hold.

A connection within them, closer then brick,

A secret condition that none could predict.