Where Dead Things Roam Free

I trapped the darkness, the despair, Confined to a dark pit, not to bleed out. I buried it deep down in the cold earth, Silenced beneath, as the surface returned to order. It altered, adapted, sprouted roots, The darkness fed it, and kept it nourished. At night it finds me, and drags me from sleep, Beneath what I've built, and what's left of me. Where dead things roam free. Black dead fingers, grips me and drags me, As the cold earth comforts me, yet smothers me. Let dirt rain down, let no one in, The person you knew, I'm no longer him. It cuts me, I don't bleed, so you keep slicing deeper, Till my essence escapes me, and my nothingness shows. This dreadful emptiness, unwraps the delusion, My only companions are these black icey claws. I don't dwell in the darkness, the darkness dwells inside me. An abandoned library of forgotten words that meant something once. Trying is worthless, contention a lie, Friends become strangers as time passes by. Wanting to be chased, never to be found. Afraid to be seen here, more afraid that I won't. My happiness should not be an act of defiance. Groomed to confusion, and bury my soul, Until I believe it, until I'm digging this hole. A longing sense for black slumber, A shipwreck devoured by a desolate sea. To exist without reason, and take my place, Where dead things roam free.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 26, 2025