In the deep, shadowed chambers of my mind,
Lies a gnawing darkness—repressed, confined—
A festering truth that claws to be freed.
Clouding my thoughts, its venom starts to bleed.

By day I wear the mask the world demands,
Stitching my wounds with steady, practiced hands.
But cracks appear where truth and lies collide—
A brewing storm beneath the peaceful tide.

One day I cracked the vault, choking back tears,
To glimpse the beast of my foreboding fears.
Its eyes were voids where time itself decays,
Its voice a dirge of futures lost to blaze.

I let it uncoil, this demon draped in rot,
Its carrion wings unfurled, its voice distraught.
It spoke of wars to come, of poisoned streams,
Of children born to a world of stolen dreams.

I shuddered, sealing the vault once more,
And painted my face as it had been before.
But in my wake, a ghostly imprint stays—
A silent scream to guard the coming days.

Beware the silence that feeds the blight,
And the apathy that avoids the fight.
For evil spreads where light is denied,
And monsters thrive where good has died.