Don’t be fooled by
antique grace
There’s something
lurking in this place.
It has soured both
brick and ground,
Inside this place no
light is found.
Sure, the wooden
stairs are grand
And yes, there’s
beauty in the land.
But the dead have
claimed it as their own
And day or night you’re
not alone.
Should you die before
you wake
Worst of all, your
soul they’ll take.
So, mirthful child,
run far away
Before you have no
choice to stay.
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