A Penny Dreadful

Dark blood oozes out of the teacup

instead of the usual English Breakfast.

The master doesn’t know why.

He picks up the cup, blood

stains his skin, trying to dig into his flesh.

The master can’t find a reason

for the blood.

Why did he do before

knocking the cup?

He can’t remember. He can’t break

down the doors to his memory storage.

But the lady in the decaying gown stares down

at him from her portrait.

Knowing his guilt.

But he knows.

He knows why there’s blood.

The house isn’t the villain here.

He made it respond, projecting his hidden spirits onto it,

corrupting its insides.

The house is the victim here.

The house will bleed him out and we will celebrate.

The reign of his terror will end.

But you and I know that the innocent house will have to fall too.

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