In the depths where darkness dwells,
Whispers echo, casting spells.
Monsters lurk in silence deep,
Awakening when dreams decay and sleep.

With jagged teeth and hollow eyes,
They feast on truths and weave their lies.
A flicker of rage, a spark of spite,
They clamor for freedom in the dead of night.

Behind each smile, a shadow plays,
A seed of malice, a twisted maze.
Innocence wears a mask so neat,
Yet claws of chaos lie beneath.

With every heartbeat, shadows sway,
They pulse like tides, they long to play.
The mask we wear—a fragile guise,
Cracks in the moonlight, the truth belies.

A simmering storm, emotions swell,
The quiet whispers, they rise and yell.
Violence dances on the edge of thought,
Innocence battles what time forgot.

For we are the clay, and fate the hand,
Shaping our souls like shifting sand.
Will we deny what the dark portrays,
Or embrace the monsters when brightness frays?

In the flicker of doubt, in the tempest of dreams,
We are but puppets; we pull the seams.
So heed the call when temptation draws near,
For monsters within us are fueled by fear.

And when the night shrouds the world in its veil,
Know that inside, the monsters prevail.
They wait for a moment, a hint of despair,
To tear down the walls, lay our souls bare.
© scott Maddox