The mansion of anguish was filled with flowers of dread,
Sighs echoed in each empty chamber like merry butterflies,
The scent of betrayal penetrated every crevice of this eerie dwelling,
As a consequence of broken vows and promises.
The name of love has been desecrated, and love itself has been obliterated,
In an extinguished fire, vestiges of mirth were lying,
Buried underneath a stack of piles of ashes and blood,
And the pain was carved on each stone.
Hushed sobs created a fountain of dismay and grief,
Where solitary souls had the habit of indulging secretly,
Waiting for their lovers who were never supposed to come back,
In a frolic of delusional hallucinations and cruel fate.
In the middle of the night, farewell left their signs on the decayed walls and shattered mirrors,
Leaving mere remembrances of broken hearts and aborted dreams,
Beneath the obsessive moonlight, whose frantic light gleams stroke perpetually the dead flowers in the garden,
While this realm of decay sparkled magnificently in all its darkness.
Repetitive laments bloomed like blossoms of death,
Since the mansion of anguish and sorrow emerged as a monument to decadence,
And every star hid itself from the insistent stare of the moon’s pale and haunting gaze,
Shadows of forsaken and lost lovers lingered, whispering fragments of unfulfilled desires and regrets into the hollow aura.
Each murmur was enthralled by the walls that held infinite teardrops of agony,
And every silent portrait, dimmed by epochs of neglect, seemed to weep silently in unison with the affliction around them.
The desolate wind sighed through all the halls, shallowing the ruins of destroyed trinkets that once held sentimental bargains.
The mansion of anguish became a despondent residence engulfed in an eternal night.
It stood as a forgotten memorial to love’s betrayal and decay, where beauty had endlessly perished, leaving only a ghostly vestige in its haunted place.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
