Asylum

The house stands a monument,

A testament to the one resident,

Within the house he lost his mind,

And the house left madness behind.

Within the darkness of the mansion,

The chambers each hold a fatal illusion,

Enter the room and the dark in its hold,

Each room a different story to be told.

For the mind that this house hath stolen,

A piece of it, in every chamber is hidden,

His mindless spirit has roamed for years,

For his mind is lost and poisoned by fears.

Enter not the chambers of this darkness,

For the sights within masters of madness,

They tell a tale of beauty and promise,

And infect the mind with terrible illness.

One such story a room ventures to tell,

One that sends the soul into deep hell,

A story that cripples the hearts of all,

For the story does not merely echo the hall.

The illusion grips the mortal in the dark,

Far far away from any saviour's spark,

The pain within the story shall hypnotize,

As you see through the mindless one's eyes.

The anguish shall be that of he who roams,

The mortal mind writhes in unholy groans,

Unable to see that which is the truth,

Such monstrous spells are most uncouth.

The house holds a million false illusions,

But there lies one truth within the mansion,

The master's bedroom, it shall forever stay,

The darkness which no prayer can hope to slay.

In the master's bedroom be it dark or day,

The one truth that shall forever stay,

The lifeless corpse of the mindless one,

A broken ceiling and a throat long strung.