Lost

Creeping silently throughout this place of unrest
A stagnant chill pervades the walls
It moves on updrafts to the upstairs
Here it just sits and waits
The smell of must and mildew crawl around in the air
The once inhabited rooms torn up in a victims last attempts
Tried to get away, but the house wouldn't let them
It cornered them, gave them up
It saw the fear in their hearts and it thrived upon it
The rotted away floorboards are the last testimonies to the destruction created
To the nightmares lived in this haunted old colonial home
But the house still lives on
It is waiting for it's next victims
It wants to reek havoc on more innocent lives
Wants to destroy the happiness
So waiting it stays
Waiting until it can find someone else to do it's bidding
To wipe off the looks of the contented faces
And it feels that it will be soon
Soon will it be that it can create this torture again.