Chapter one
In the Abyss
I rise in the hour of the blood moon,
a restless specter in this hollow room,
where shadows cling like secrets unsaid,
and echoes of laughter mock the dead.
Walls pulse with whispers, tight as a noose,
memories clawing, demanding their dues.
Each crack in the plaster, a tale of despair,
each sigh from the floorboards, a lover’s affair.
I dig in the dirt for the roots of my pain,
unearth the remains of what’s lost to the rain,
but the more that I seek, the more I am found—
a wraith in the mirror, my sanity drowned.
The night wears a crown of suffocating stars,
and I dance with the phantoms, the ghosts of my scars.
“Come closer,” they beckon, with voices like knives,
“we’ll show you the darkness that feeds on your lives.”
Yet still, in the depths where the shadows conspire,
there flickers a spark in the ashes of fire.
I grasp at the void, torn between dread and grace,
for to live is to battle, to fight in this space.
So here I will stand, unbroken, defiant,
a scream in the silence, a heart still compliant.
For the abyss may whisper and tempt me to fall,
but I am the storm—
and I will not stall.
