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Click hereFaded paintings hang upon
Broken frames, wrongly drawn,
Centuries ago; subjects dead, gone:
Probably buried beneath the lawn.
Further inside you reach the stairs,
Can you feel it raising the hairs
On your arms, warning of danger.
Fight or flight: You wanna wager
Which one’ll be the better choice?
You’ve reached the landing, above
The stairs, congratulations, love,
You’re almost there. That bedroom,
Where within a prophet of doom,
Committed an act most brutal.