We’re not entirely sure, you’ll need to come back.
The letter resting in the dark caverns of the metal mailbox waits,
Waits to scream, to taunt.
You’ll need to come back, and maybe,
Just maybe, if you’re one of the lucky ones,
You’ll get to stay, keep us company,
It gets ever so lonely, here in this room,
Where cold tile floods, and plasticky lights
Introduce long lost friends, fear, who mingles, dancing with pain.
Room 341, the stay you’ll never forget,
A tantalizing visit, leaving you with all but a tinge of regret,
A small morsel of remorse.