Into the shadows a man can walk.
Without guidance or hope.
A darkness called hate,
That will never leave, but stalk.

The simplest things are dangerous,
And everything can ****.
Anything else would be scandalous,
While man and women scream their voices shrill.

A sad time, and a sad place.
This is where the darkened go.
Not heaven, or a shiny palace,
A dark dungeon, that tortures people so.

Pyres burn,
Fire roasts,
As flesh cooks on the spurn.
The beasts who cook are generous hosts.

The dungeon is meant to break,
Not to imprison.
Sanity is theirs to take,
With a wraith-like vision.

So beware the shadows, into people walk,
For it burns and scars the weakened heart.
Leaving a body outlined in chalk.
As the body and soul depart.