You can hear the blood-curdling screams
yet they're silent.
You see the cries of the afflicted women,
yet you cant hear.
You can see the scars, the paint on the walls,
brittling and crumbling into dust in the chilly air,
but you cant see.
You can read any book from the house's library,
but the pages are empty.
You can care, but who's there?
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The title of this poem is very fitting, since the poem itself is haunting and mysterious, especially since it is full of opposites.