The house on the outskirt's edge.
The house of bankrupcy.
The house of debt.
The house of confiscation.
The house of trash.
The house of homeless.
The house of stolen aluminium wires.
The house was cheap — I bought it.
I was burning the wooden trash stored on the garden, as it was winter.
There was a rotten guitar, I spilled my anger on the guitar fanatics.
Their truth is a fairy tale, which they highly compromised.
This is why I call them heretics.
Did you know that if you chop a guitar by an axe, it still sounds as a guitar?
An amogus came to my house, offering me cheap renovation.
Nice deal! But he dealn't.
Impostor.
It looks like something is moving there finally. But it was worth two wasted years.