The House that Horror Built
A house stands upon a shady hill…
Not grand in charm nor stature,
Yet drawing you against your will,
To welcome your disaster.
You know this house!...and so you dread...
As Truth peers out the window.
Old voices echo in your head,
A rising dead crescendo.
What lies behind its wretched door,
Is what you fear the most,
Dark hallways filled with blood and gore,
Those long forgotten ghosts.
It beckons you, not once, but twice!
Hypnotic, cruel tormenter.
It pulls you by your own device...
You've no choice but to enter.
“Remember!” screams the darkened shell,
And you do.. despite your horror.
History fills these walls of Hell,
And you're the damned explorer.
Here in this room.you've lain awake,
Love's footsteps loud, descending,
Down a spiral staircase to its wake,
The funeral neverending.
Here too, you've buried scraps of pain,
Beneath the floorboards, creaking,
In hopes that they would here remain.
Instead, they clothe you, reeking!
Here, once, you planned your future, great,
With thoughts of hope and freedom,
Your suitcase packed with guaze and tape,
To slow your steady bleeding...
Yes..a house stands upon a shady hill,
In the corners of your mind,
And though it hurts, you visit still...
In hopes that you fill find
Some secret passageway unknown,
That leads to restoration,
A healing, mending, loading zone,
To start your renovation.
Here, once, you thought you left for good,
And never to regress...
But truth be told, you never could...
You're too much of a mess.