Pace in an empty hallway
from where the janitors fled like ghosts;
the floor is chipped,
the walls are warped,
the ceiling's made of wax.
Wait for something
but never know quite what it is.
Think you'll recognize it
when it comes along
but if so you'll pace eternity.
Walk the barren passage
up and down 
until you know its secret flaws.
Linger a while longer;
you've got no where to go.
Delay a few more minutes
and have your own epiphany 
of echoes of footsteps tarrying
in vacant corridors.
Why do you stay?
Why do you stall?
Explore an emptied passage
where you can hear
only your breathing.
Your hunger to flee
balanced by 
your longing to remain.
Belong nowhere else
but to this hollow hall.
Leave: Linger.
Depart: Delay. 
Walk away: Wait.
Alone either way.
Pace in an empty hallway
where from their demons
your ghosts rushed away.