Wanderer

Dark deep hallways, double doors
Left to rot
The stillness, the silence, the creak of the hinges
The smell of asbestos rises and lingers
Shattered glass, spongy carpet
Moisture fights against the sharp edges

Once a thriving home for the mentally ill
A building as sick as the residents within
An insipid pabulum to hide shrill screams
Fog wrapping the night in it's emptiness

Approaching an end, dim light shines
Who knows what once populated these halls
A shadow? A dim light? Or a slight paranoid mind?