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At the end of Pine, the house stands still,

Whispers echo, cold and chill.

A family gone without a trace,

Shadows lurk in every space.

Lucy heard the scratching walls,

Her father's screams, the haunting calls.

The house it crept, it clawed inside,

From fear and madness, none could hide.

Mother's eyes turned hollow, dark,

The house had left its deadly mark.

Trapped in mirrors, swaying slow,

A chilling sight, no life to show.

Doors led back to the same old room,

A circle of despair and doom.

Lucy ran, but couldn't flee,

From the house’s twisted spree.

The mirror cracked, the shadows swarmed,

The house itself, alive and formed.

Lucy vanished, lost in screams,

Swallowed whole by darkened dreams.

Now the house waits, cold and still,

Feeding on the trauma’s thrill.

Hollow voices, faint and near,

Calling out to all who hear.

If you pass by late at night,

You’ll see her face in pale moonlight.

Hollow eyes, forever there,

Trapped within the house's snare.

If you pass by late at night,

You’ll see her face in pale moonlight.

Hollow eyes, forever there,

Trapped within the house's snare.