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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2100347
by Angel
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2100347
The cries of those unheard
Voices drifted on cooling air,
Calling to them.
All, yet none, wanted to enter
That abandoned house.

They watched each other
As they slowly walked
Each room with care;
Listening, and hearing again

Those whispers in the dark.
Outside, colour ran through leaves,
Inside, only black, no power
Tiny torchlight guiding their way.

Treading carefully,
Watching each step,
Not knowing what lay ahead,
Keeping each other close.

All rooms empty but one,
Leading downward,
Their final destination,
Soft voices still drifting in the dark.

Drawing back the cold bolt,
Hinges creaking with age
As their final barrier opened.
The voices grew from whispers to cries.

Stilted movements
As they crossed the threshold.
A splintered stairway led them
Into the depths of depravity.

Wire bent into cages,
A girl crouched, whimpering
Within each one.
Lost, but now found

By those risking everything
To enter a place of horror,
In a world where monsters
Are celebrated, revered,

If only once a year.

© Copyright 2016 Angel (angelglory at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2100347