Whispers of the Abyss

Whispers of the Abyss

In the fridge, the shadows creep,
Milk expires, and cheese doth weep,
Rotten bread with teeth that gnash,
Moldy whispers in the pantry clash.

The curtains dance with spiders' thread,
A toaster hums, though it is dead,
TV static screams in tongues,
While eldritch beasts devour crumbs.

Oh, the cursed hymn of the midnight house,
Where time itself becomes a mouse,
Gnawing wires and dreams apart,
Leaving echoes to claw at your heart.

In the sink, the dishes breed,
Ancient grime that starts to feed,
Forks that twist and spoons that bend,
Echoing cries that never end.

The clock strikes thirteen, walls collapse,
Reality warps, the mirror snaps,
A face that's not your own appears,
Singing lullabies soaked in fears.

The floorboards creak in cryptic code,
A haunted map to despair’s abode,
Fingers crawl from under doors,
Scratching truths that the void adores.

Oh, the cursed hymn of the midnight house,
Where sanity flees like a frightened mouse,
Eternal dread with roots so deep,
In the cursed home where nightmares seep.

Lights flicker out, the house awakes,
Bones that crack and windows quake,
You’ll never leave, you’ll never rest,
A tenant bound to the darkness’ chest.