There in stoic stone stands
The ruins of majestic past
Where artisan effort was hewn
Though now decrepit in time
Its progression of seasons
That ravage fine lines descend
And there within this realm
An atmosphere deteriorated
Where one does but wonder
Of its beauty, its warmth
Where once families grew
Now vacant and derelict
Its wooden floors now fallen
Resembling a cathedral barren
With mounds of debris strewn
As if those of burials made so
In a spacial plane able to echo
There is maintained only silence
The darkness is broken sparsely
By slivers of light piercing through
A roof decayed by eons passing
On graffiti pasted walls chaotic
A calamity of colours striated
Confuses the eye to those fade
A wish to see it as it once was seen
As it once has been, overwhelms
But acknowledging the liabilities
That mortality brings reckons reality
The dark dank corridors tomblike
Only a veneer of brick stays the light