The Haunted Mansion

Dusty halls of maddened gloom
Thick in the air
Like Death’s perfume,
Shadows, black, and bilious cracks,
Sinking, slinking, and silently weeping;
An air of desolation and doom
Empty rooms of grim despair;
Silent and cold
December air.
Still and gray with hideous decay,
Moaning, groaning, and carefully honing,
Illusions of yesterday’s fare.
Musty trails of secret tales,
A place where death
And blackness dwells,
Old and Brown, mystery abounds,
Haunting, daunting, patiently waiting,
For new found souls to steal.