They toil here, day and night

From dawn's soft glow to dusk's last light.

Each hour they work, their spirits concealed

All for the promise of their next meal.
To me, it's a scene that captivates the eye

But for them, it's a struggle beneath the sky.

What seems a story of grit and grace

Hides untold burdens they silently face.

In a world of shadows, where the sun won’t dare,

I sit alone on the creaking chair.

A haunted house, its whispers loud,

Yet silence is my only shroud.

The walls breathe tales of despair and dread,

Echoes of footsteps from the long-since dead.

The air, a chill, like a ghost’s faint sigh,

The darkness my partner, no stars in the sky.

Pitch black speaks, though words are few,

Its voice a void, yet hauntingly true.

"Fear not the night; it's where truths reside,

In the folds of silence where secrets hide."

I cling to the dark, my solemn muse,

In its endless depths, my thoughts diffuse.

Alone, yet not; its cold embrace

Holds me steady in this forsaken place.

Life in a dark world, a shadowed art,

Where even fear finds its way to the heart.

And on this stair, I’ll forever remain,

Bound to the darkness, my constant chain.