The Room Poem by Rafael Cazares

There at the summit of the rectangular, upright building,
was a room.
No one knew of the secrets it continued to
bloom.
But there it was, and
once the knob turned
the heart learned,
That something creeping beyond humanity lied ahead.

Blood, Damaged Flesh,
upon this threshold.
Red hand prints smear the room.
The smell of rotten death
and human limbs set our scene.
A desire was set about
By this most wretched, monstrous fiend.

Lay there a thin to the bone man.
Chained, enslaved.
His eyes burdened with labor and dishonor.
What sure cruelty and displays of savagery were upon these facing walls?
Demons.
Demons.
Demons.