Stone Room

A poem inspired by a Ghost Adventures episode

As I sit alone behind these walls,

the temperature feels cool.

The eerie thought of someone’s there,

when I see the wood stool move.

The walls are thick and made of stone,

so nothing can get through.

Is this the spirit of the troubled man,

who drowned within a pool?

I still look around and get a chill,

this feeling is of doom.

Is this a dungeon where I’ll die someday,

or nothing but a room?