Burglary poetry

BEWARE OF DOG DEMON
Once, there was a break-in.
I could not understand why.
Who'd want to be inside
this old house of mine?
You see,
In 1812
my house burned down.
It was the talk
of the whole town.
I died that night,
while playing death,
and woke up to
the smell of meth(ane).
My porch lit up
flames upon flames
into the interior
and left some dark stains.
The curtains were gone
and so was my little cove
and then those bright flames
they blew up my stove.
The kitchen was under my room, you see
and when it it blew up
it blew up me.
I died that night
while playing death
and 10 years later
a criminal broke in.
Now do you see why I don't understand
why someone would break in
to an old haunted house
filled to the brim with sin?
I cheated death in such a way
that my body died
and I stayed the same.
Now I live as a spirit
with this insane human
along with the ashes and ruins and demon
lurking in shadows
waiting to pounce
and to trap this poor human
breaking into my house.                                                                                                                --K.K.