Gloomy Catacombs

A cycle of poems «Chasing a Werewolf»

Whispers in the dark, where shadows bleed,
Creeping through the silence, longing to be freed,
Cold stones beneath my feet, echo tales of old,
Secrets written in the dust, and stories left untold.

In these gloomy catacombs, where the lost souls roam,
Every heartbeat lingers, every step feels like home.
Flickering the candlelight, casting ghosts of pain,
In the gloom, in the shadows, I am not alone again.

Carvings in the walls, they tell of grief and loss,
Fragments of a time gone by, they speak of love’s cost.
Beneath the weight of memories, the air is thick as night,
But there’s beauty in the darkness, even when there’s no light.

In these gloomy catacombs, where the lost souls roam,
Every heartbeat lingers, every step feels like home.
Flickering the candlelight, casting ghosts of pain,
In the gloom, in the shadows, I am not alone again.

And if the walls could whisper, if they could sing,
They’d tell of all the heartaches, the joy that sorrow brings.
Through the mist and the marrow, where the lost become whole,
I’ll walk these haunted hallways, find the echoes of my soul.

In these gloomy catacombs, where the lost souls roam,
Every heartbeat lingers, every step feels like home.
Flickering the candlelight, casting ghosts of pain,
In the gloom, in the shadows, I am not alone again.

So I’ll wander through the darkness, with my heart in my hand,
Embrace the chilling silence, make my stand in this land,
In the gloomy catacombs, where the stories intertwine,
I’ll find solace in the shadows, in this crypt of the divine.