Cracked and decaying with age,
Letting secrets slip through,
The whisperings of the past,
Of epoch and ancient times.

Windows smashed and wide,
Blood caked on glass,
History ignored by all,
Buried in the surroundings.

Walls hide little as naught,
Letting sound sliver through,
Thoughts and dreams left behind,
Left for dust to settle.

Rooms hold tears which were cried,
Smiles are shut away,
They screamed with closed mouths,
Their last day on this earth.

The caked blood,
Runs on its freewill,
Back to that fateful night,
Where memoirs are ever still.

By Siobhan
Date: 23/March/2004