Hotel rooms are haunted places,
Cursed as travelers come and go,
Seeping stains upon these spaces,
By the weeping of their souls.
Sadness soiled in the carpets,
Happiness caught in the drapes,
Places tainted by quick respites,
Passions born of love and hate.
Time blows through, thoughts fogged and clouded,
Lives roam in and out like wraiths,
In such rooms so marred and crowded,
Should we not pay lower rates?
