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Syriah Marque

"Ireland Hall’"

There’s a small town down south in Kansas

Following the long narrow roads, you will see

A college with a tall building. The exterior a canvas,

Perfect for its chilling ghost stories.

As people came and went the tales

Spread of our dear Ireland.

Fingers licked the back of necks, exhales

Where heard in between ominous whispers. Making it hard to stand

As door handles trembled and the floorboards creaked

Spine-chilling footsteps were heard on its vast timbered

Flooring. The memories reeked

Of its unnerving inhabitants

The old building never stood so silent.

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