The Haunt

The door hangs loose upon one rusty hinge
Night draws us forward in its drunken binge
The moans of the wind sound soft in our ears
While wolven song makes the eyes threaten tears

The nails in the steps protest with great shrieks
Our feet mount their rise each one of them speaks
Our minds have been schooled there's naught we need dread
Our hearts only hear the voice of the dead

Now we're inside and our feet give no pause
As we seem bound by unnatural laws
Reason and logic both seem to be banned
While large, hairy legs creep o'er arm and hand

Dusty floors speak of an absence so long
But something in that thought feels very wrong
Now we are lost in this dark dank within
Where light will not see us ever again