Dungeons and Murders

Dungeons and Murders

Beneath the stones where time forgets,

a hollow breath begins to crawl,

the dungeon walls are slick with grief,

they listen close, they hear it all.

Chains once sang with desperate cries,

now rusted still, yet not at peace,

for every life that ended here,

refuses gently to release.

A lantern flickers down the stair,

nobody has walked these steps for years,

its glow reveals the shadowed stains,

of whispered deaths and frozen fears.

You feel it first within your chest,

a tightening that will not break,

as if the dark has hands unseen,

and waits for something it can take.

The floor remembers every fall,

each final breath, each pleading sound,

and in the silence, something stirs,

that knows you stand on haunted ground.

Then comes the scrape, the dragging weight,

no body seen, yet something moves,

a murder never laid to rest,

repeats itself in endless grooves.

Do not turn back, do not remain,

for once the dungeon knows your name,

it writes you in its book of loss,

and you will never leave the same.

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