The doors cackle, and the windows shatter,
The wind makes the curtains mutter.
The stairs creak and the pillars scream,
There is no longer smoke up the chimney or even steam.
No one comes in and no one goes out,
The voices only echo back and no one can hear you shout.
Not even a living soul, a flying bird, a lonely cat or a squeaking mouse,
Still, there are mysteries within ME; I am the abandoned warehouse.
They say no one comes in here, but last night they came,
Two of those bad men and the screaming girl with them.
They say you can never hear a sound from inside,
But, her screams tore me apart when they left her with her hands tied.
They say children should not come near me,
But, last week they came to test their courage and see.
They left their friend, a small little soul all alone,
I did nothing, but he passed away, when the wind tossed a stone.
They say I am good for nothing, and I cannot be used,
But, three days back, they got a man, all beaten and bruised.
One of them pulled the trigger and a shot was fired,
They hid him in a sac, and finished the work for which they were hired.
They say I give them an eerie and spooky feeling,
But, last Sunday, someone had put weird markings on my door and ceiling.
They say I should not be visited in the night,
I guess for once it is true and right.
Because, in the night, they come and light the fire,
Sometimes, they call out to someone, I don’t know in a prayer or chant,
And, sometimes, they enjoy a puff of smoke or coke, and pass out in a trance.
They say I have all the wrong reasons to be in the news,
But, sadly I don’t know any of them or any of their woes.
The mysteries within me are not years and years old,
They just happen in the present, and no secrets that I hold.
I am only made of brick and mortar, and I hardly give a damn,
People out there haunt me, and make me everything that they say I am.
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