The halls are cold and narrow.
The windows are broken and barred.
The beds are dirty and squeaky.
There's a mouse that scurries across the floor, a black widow in the corner.
There's a noise down the hall; it must just be the wind.
There's a stench that no one can mistake, it's the one thing no one can escape.
All around are noises and breezes.
The most eerie thing in the place are the voices.
Only thing is that no one has been here for 60 years.
You hear the screams.
You hear the mistreatment.
You hear the pain.
You can feel the eyes still watching cautiously.
You can feel the abandonment.
You can feel the touch of death and loneliness.
This is where the diseases came to be treated.
This is where the people were meant to be cared for.
This is, ultimately, where they went to die.