The Library's lament

Amidst the cobbled streets Stands a library Decrepit, consumed by the moss feeding off it The walls have no ownership over the pages Despite its greatest wishes Echoes act as a reminder Not allowing the authors to forget their crimes Pages teeming with unfortunate reality's Ink stains cover old wishes Suspense, horror, satire Every chapter a betrayal Every line a silent plea to be released But unbeknownst to the visitors, the readers, the intrigued Beneath the rotting floor boards There is a soul begging to be seen