The Architect

It's in dark time's,
I find myself rummaging,
burrowed in fiction,
this place,
mental.

An institution for the wicked,
filled with Gothic sculptures,
where he hangs,
the architect,
slain.

Each wall made with mirrors,
every statue speaks your name,
this is madness,
a human,
insane.

Author's Note

Spent months trying to find more to write on this, seems as though it wants to end here.