5200 Wolf Creek Rd.

Maple wood groans. Constricted by the air,

Twenty below. The red brick structure,

Creaks. Inside is as frigid as,

The country outside. All the doors,

Open and close. They contain their,

Own souls. Possessed by those who,

held their glass knobs before. Down,

The stairs. Dirty dusty gravel air,

Fills lungs to match theirs. Bouncing,

Echoes, white noise rings EeEeEeE,

lights flash out, sudden without a sound,

Darkness is their home now,

Shuffling feet, many more now,

Voices theirs, enclosing the room now,

Their home, Yours now.