Gothic poem

in the middle of the night,

the sounds creep by through the walls,

never in the same place,

they spin around in the darkness,

enveloping what little light we have left,

casting the shadow of the devil through the walls,

his laughter filling the air of the mansion,

we run for the door that bolted door closed from the other side,

hitting and clawing at the latch praying for it to open,

sadly it never will open for the desperate or the damned,

the fires appear as little sparks turning into infernos,

burning our souls and leaving our shadows on the walls,

finally we are free if not the way we intended,

we dance in the smoke and fire around the flames of life,

as they burn away what was left turning it into a pyre ,

our own little pyre by the mansion for we are not there anymore,

we are watching the skies as they change and the place we once,

called safety evaporate like our world around us,

we just continue to dance on the wind as it takes us from place to place castle to castle,

repeating the process and soon there are many more people freed to dance,

and enjoy life with us for we are the free not the damned as you claim as we dance inside our pyres of the mansions and castles of old and bring forth the reincarnation of our sins as we are forgiven and allured into peace finally as the song stops,

our feet fall into the ground,

we are one again with our master under the ground,

we are the free you are the caged,

to your world of suffering and pain.