I walked in the catacombs, dusty and webbed.
Medieval, a relic of culture that ebbed.
I stumbled across these sepulchers in line
like soldiers that fell on their frangible spine.
Among these stone coffins, a statue stood tall.
Some cracks on its elbows, still chained to the wall.
The fetters, they rusted on ankle and wrist.
The centuries wrapped it in mildew and mist.
I stared in its eyelids, they're shut in for good.
This sculpture, it creaked; and transfixed I just stood.
It opened its eyes, they were hollow, unfilled;
it groaned through the chamber so scratchy and chilled.
It mumbled in language that only the stones
can fathom the whispers on top of these bones.
Repeating its words in the voice of a mime,
this figurine's words became clearer with time.
Its jaw split to pieces, its breath reeked of clay.
I gasped, for its voice almost chased me away.
I leaned in to listen, I stared at its face:
"Get out! I beseech thee, get out of this place!"
More eager than scared of exploring this room,
I asked this old carving that's guarding this tomb,
"These caskets are chained as you are by their side,
I'm curious Sir, 'bout the secrets you hide!"
"Get out! I beseech thee, get out while you can!"
This statue insisted, but I had a plan.
"I ask you to speak of the treasures you guard,
why drive me away from this funeral yard?"
The statue just crackled and stared at the crypt,
its wrist pulled the chain and some fluid had dripped.
Its marble exterior softened to skin.
"I'm not keeping you out, I was keeping them in!"
The stench of cadavers and dust at the time
grew stronger with tremors that roared through the grime.
I heard all the souls in these coffins, these moans
that echoed so loud in this city of bones.
"This tomb smells your flesh!", cried the statue in dread,
"It needs one alive to watch over the dead
or else, they will rise and the living replace!"
It shattered itself into shards in that space.
A hand grabbed my leg from the quivering ground
and fastened my limbs 'til my ankles were bound.
My skin turned to marble; my veins, they have burned
The corpses, now hushed, to the rut they returned.
Now paralyzed slowly from toe to the neck,
my face is benumbed as I stay in this wreck.
So morbid this fate, as my movement has ebbed.
I stand in the catacombs, dusty and webbed.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 10:03 AM UTC
I walked in the catacombs, dusty and webbed.
Medieval, a relic of culture that ebbed.
I stumbled across these sepulchers in line
like soldiers that fell on their frangible spine.
Among these stone coffins, a statue stood tall.
Some cracks on its elbows, still chained to the wall.
The fetters, they rusted on ankle and wrist.
The centuries wrapped it in mildew and mist.
I stared in its eyelids, they're shut in for good.
This sculpture, it creaked; and transfixed I just stood.
It opened its eyes, they were hollow, unfilled;
it groaned through the chamber so scratchy and chilled.
It mumbled in language that only the stones
can fathom the whispers on top of these bones.
Repeating its words in the voice of a mime,
this figurine's words became clearer with time.
Its jaw split to pieces, its breath reeked of clay.
I gasped, for its voice almost chased me away.
I leaned in to listen, I stared at its face:
"Get out! I beseech thee, get out of this place!"
More eager than scared of exploring this room,
I asked this old carving that's guarding this tomb,
"These caskets are chained as you are by their side,
I'm curious Sir, 'bout the secrets you hide!"
"Get out! I beseech thee, get out while you can!"
This statue insisted, but I had a plan.
"I ask you to speak of the treasures you guard,
why drive me away from this funeral yard?"
The statue just crackled and stared at the crypt,
its wrist pulled the chain and some fluid had dripped.
Its marble exterior softened to skin.
"I'm not keeping you out, I was keeping them in!"
The stench of cadavers and dust at the time
grew stronger with tremors that roared through the grime.
I heard all the souls in these coffins, these moans
that echoed so loud in this city of bones.
"This tomb smells your flesh!", cried the statue in dread,
"It needs one alive to watch over the dead
or else, they will rise and the living replace!"
It shattered itself into shards in that space.
A hand grabbed my leg from the quivering ground
and fastened my limbs 'til my ankles were bound.
My skin turned to marble; my veins, they have burned
The corpses, now hushed, to the rut they returned.
Now paralyzed slowly from toe to the neck,
my face is benumbed as I stay in this wreck.
So morbid this fate, as my movement has ebbed.
I stand in the catacombs, dusty and webbed.