The Old Haunted Prison

I walk through the old haunted prison,
Seeing the ceiling seep from yesterday’s rains.
Dripping into one isolated urinal that still remains.
My muddy boots are stuck in the Ghost Warden’s mire
The crunchy ground is covered in bits of coiled barbed wire.

I walk through the old haunted prison.
Listening to clanging bars that echo down the line.
Comparing curses now replaced with graffiti design.
My eyes see a deserted floor-polishing machine.
The prison workers need to keep the cell block clean.

I walk through the old haunted prison.
Feeling and reeling from visions that make me moan.
Imagining a life behind bars, behind a fortress of stone.
My rambling mind sees and feels each inmates’ dismay.
The dark horrid corners hide more than a creepy decay.

copyright © 2019 Elaine Fisher

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