Where Death Lives

A row of tiny houses
A row of open doors
No one living anywhere
Just bones upon the floor
Bones that have lain there
For many lonely years
In a place where death lives
And plays upon your fears
An abandoned little chapel
Another open door
There’s no sense in praying
For the bones upon the floor
Sadness lingers in the air
Loneliness seeps into your bones
This island is a haunted place
That’s better left alone

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2 thoughts on “Where Death Lives

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