Breaking The Mold: Poetry For A New Era

The possesive century haunted house

In a house of ancient age,
With walls worn and creaking floorboards,
A family lived under a curse,
Bound to act in the same ways, forevermore.

No one dared to break the rules,
For if they did, they would never leave,
The house held them under its control,
A dark power that would never cease.

But a new member of the family came,
And he noticed strange happenings in the night,
Whispers, creaks, and objects moving on their own,
Filling his soul with fear and fright.

He confronted his family, but they denied,
And so he delved deep into the house's past,
Discovering an evil spirit that ruled, Holding his family in a never-ending cast.

He sought the help of a wise old man, Together they performed a ritual of banishment,
Breaking the curse and freeing his kin,
Ending the spirit's malevolent management.

The house still stood, ancient and wise,
But the family never returned,
Their memory remained, a warning to all,
That evil spirits cannot be spurned.

So beware of the house of ancient age, And the curse that it may hold,
For if you enter, you may never leave, Forever bound to its mold.