Underground

Beneath the earth, where silence sprawls,

Cold stone walls echo ancient calls.

Once a place of knowledge, now steeped in dread,

Where whispers of the dead stir, their voices spread.

A girl locked within, her hands cold as steel,

She paints the air, but the strokes cannot feel.

Each color she seeks, each line she draws,

But the spirits around her demand their cause.

She paints, but the canvas stays cold,

Each stroke is slow, her heart uncontrolled.

The spirits circle, their presence fierce,

Their hollow gaze, their whispers pierce.

Betrayed by those she once held near,

She paints with hands stained by fear.

Their laughter rings, a bitter sound,

Their poison thick, their hearts unbound.

The ghosts that circle, they never lie,

But she sees the truth, it’s now her cry.

The real demons aren’t in this place,

They walk the world with a human face..

From the depths of death and pain,

She rises from blood and rain.

The chains that bound her, snapped and torn,

Her fury is awakened, she is reborn.