It

The walls are high and dark, Looming, ever looming. The doors are big and sealed, Closing, ever closing. The cells are cold as ice, Freezing, ever freezing. The joy is always tight, Strained, ever strained. None can escape Its sight, Searching, always searching. The smiles are forever lost, Fading, ever fading. They seek out the condemned, Lurking, ever lurking. No one dare breathe a word, Silence, always silence. Torture, agony, pain, Biting, ever biting. This is the Thing that haunts, Killing, ever killing. The walls are high and dark. It is the Thing that haunts, Preying, ever preying.