In the darkness, a flashlight casts life on the lifeless
Old hallways seen as they once were
Voices so close to the surface
Like a knife tip against a membrane
The floors are scattered with lives
Newspapers and trinkets
Walls patchworked in purpose
Paintings and poems and passages
Dust settles in the corners of this space
At night, youths from the town will enter and talk of ghosts and dares
Unable or unwilling to know they themselves are the ghosts in these halls
Visitors simply passing through
The brilliance of a firework in a tunnel
Lingering as all but echo
Spores linger in the air on eyes like film
The music cuts through it, sounding so thin
As if the tones are small sacrifices to the life once residing in this space
It is an entity in itself in the night
Given presence by the beams of electric sun
submitted by /u/MemoirsOfSnails
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