I walk down the hallway
so beak, so cold
I look at the paintings
lovely and old
I hear silent moaning
shrieking
I’m told
from souls who’ve gone
to places
dark and untold
I feel anger, anguish
grief
sadness and heartache
from
those that were
old
Who once
lived
in this building
now roam
the hallways, their rooms
this
I’m told
Rooms
filled
with new victims
soon
to become
lost souls
Do not enter
this place
do not love, laugh nor cry
for they will hear you
and
take this life
you cherish
You will surely die.
~ Patrice
@ Patrice Clarkson – 2025
Patrice’s Art & Poetry Blog 