The Black House

Come with us,
To the Black House cursed,
Abandoned and charred,
By the flames that once roared.

Initiate the trauma cadence,
For a bad thing happened in its presence,
The scars on the walls speak,
Of the secrets that it keeps.

Do you see what we see?
The Eye and Pyramid reveal the history,
Carrie Killian, a practitioner of magic,
Ostracised by the town's tragic.

Rumours spread like wildfire,
And the mob's intent to frighten became dire,
Torching the house and its inhabitant,
The flames consuming the accused innocent.

Guilt distills into stories,
A palatable way to ease the worries,
Of the townsfolk who now sing,
Carrie Killian's name in a jump rope ring.

Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down,
The legacy of the Black House still around,
An ugly aftermath and a forgotten past,
But the scars on its walls forever last.

Our wisdom flows so sweet,
Taste and see, but do not repeat,
The mistakes of the past,
Or the Black House's curse may last.