Trapped

There's an old, archaic palace that I see upon a ledge,
Where it looms above a pond that has dead flowers at its edge.
The front gate is made of iron, and it’s nearly rusted through,
And at night the moon is glowing with an iridescent hue.
Inside, the rooms are empty, and there are holes within the walls.
And the dust coats every surface deep within its shadowed halls.
There’s molding on the carpets, and there are cobwebs everywhere.
It’s apparent that this place has never seen a hint of care.
At night the house is stirring, and there are whispers to be heard.
They cannot be understood though, not a single uttered word.
Thoughts of terror then surround me, and I can do naught but scream,
And I wish for day to come again; this has to be a dream.
I then turn to run towards the door, but find that it is gone.
I am trapped within this palace now; my face is gaunt and drawn.
I have been here for my whole life, and no rest I’ll ever find.
For I now know the damned, awful truth: the palace is my mind!