They say that walls have ears,
And wonder what tales they could tell,
Absorbing a tortured child’s tears,
To shield them from a living hell.
The whistling that drove them all mad,
As he hammered and butchered in glee,
No-one believed he was bad,
They saw just what they wanted to see.
Such cruelty witnessed within,
Death came, and the monster moved on,
The house stood in its shadows of sin,
But the horrors would never be gone.
Young bones buried deep in the dirt,
Not one, but three, four or five,
The building nurtured the hurt
Of these babies no longer alive.
Empty, discarded and grey,
Knowing the time would come soon,
Rotten and sour with decay,
It waited for that evil tune.
He entered and laughed in the dust,
He was rich now the house had been sold,
Doors creaked on their hinges of rust,
As they closed, the house turned icy cold.
His screams could be heard for miles,
The walls opened and trapped him inside,
The spirits of the dead simply smiled,
And watched as their tormentor died.
Brick by brick the walls took a piece
Of his body as they smashed every bone,
He was given no easy release
By this house he had once called his home.
He felt every shattering blow,
One for one of the thousands he’d made,
The house wanted him to know
What it was like to be afraid.
As his last breath hung in the air,
The house crumbled after twenty years,
But think on this if you dare,
Walls may have more than ears.