Within the confines of the office building
is a dark and dusty stairwell.
Used less and less by those unwilling
to take a trip no longer fulfilling
as the elevator is easier and does not smell
and it moves too quick so one can't dwell
on the feelings that flow like an ocean swell.
But there's a fear a machine is instilling
for if there are a sudden halt and no dinging bell
and one is stuck when the power is killing
itself; would one think of those stairs so very chilling
and what their day would be if they took the stairwell?
Would they even survive to share a tale they can't tell?
Or will the cables break and they'll arrive faster in Hell?
It'd be too late for souls to know they were unwell.

The lack of control is frightfully thrilling.
No one tells them why they fell.

I hung her from the ceiling of a stairwell.

Looking down on two lovers pressed together
forced to watch upon her soulless sinful body,
as it allows foreign hands to mutilate her morals.
The arch of her back from being limp and lifeless.
Tears fall from her face,
each kiss tightens the noose.
The two mistake her tears as paralyzing pleasure.
She grinds her body to his hoping to become one.
For if they are one, is this truly wrong?
She envisions wedding bells,
hoping that her delusion will forge the knife that frees her.
She truly believes her breathless state is a result of pure ecstasy.
Unknowing that the further down his hands go,
the closer she comes to the grips of hells fire.

The rope breaks crippling her life

She falls to her knees suffocating.
He takes advantage of her weakened state,
her tears bring him joy
Breathing falls flat as he leaves her there
Hopelessly she grasps at his ankles
Screaming as regret cuts her wrists
One step at a time the vision of him disappears.
As her body cries in the corner,
Her soul lies in a pool of red regret
I‒

She, died in a stairwell.