Old burnt-out shell
sits atop the hill.
Glass all gone,
grass doesnt grow
where fires glowed.
Ravaged furnishings
went up in the blaze.
History erased
leaving barely a trace.
Now just sits. Asleep.
In an eternal doze.
Wind rustling through open windows.
Internal walls crumbled
from the conflagration,
only the strong supports
stopping it from crashing
into its own foundations.
Where once life
laughed and cried,
now just a filthy weathered
relic of time.
Smiles were shared
in this old room.
Now the place is dark,
gloomy and full of doom.
People say this old place is haunted.
And it is.
By memories
that never fade.
They keep returning,
when the day ends
to sharpen the blade.
Upon this old hill,
winds blow through thiis old shell.
it sits. Heat warped beams,
soot stains creeping
like vines reaching
to where dreams once dwelled.
Cobwebs float on the
breath wafting through,
as spectres of yesterday
hide in the gloom.
Spectators of misery
keep an eye on this tomb.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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