The Harvest

In the dead of night, where nightmares breed,

Whispers crawl, planting the darkest seed.

The ground convulses, drenched in sin,

As the reapers gather, the end begins.

--

From twisted woods where shadows feast,

Hollow eyes glint, the hungry dead released.

Cold claws scratch, a shriek fills the air,

A voice in the dark drips with despair.

--

The trees lean low, with secrets to share,

Cradling souls lost to anguish and care.

You stumble upon an altar of bones,

Where laughter echoes, cruel and alone.

--

The moon bleeds red, specters pull at your skin,

Screams pierce the silence, your fate draws in.

As darkness devours, hope rots and dies,

In the harvest of shadows, your spirit cries.

--

So heed this warning, fear the embrace,

For in the abyss, you’ve lost your place.

Your name will be whispered, swallowed in night,

A wretched echo, forever in fright.