The Chains of Silence

 
Bound by whispers, unseen threads intertwined,
Each link a choice, a shadowed design.
Freedom feigned, yet fetters remain,
Each step forward pulls backward in vain.
We are tethered, bound to the unseen,
Trapped in a dance that we did not choose,
The chains of shadow wrapped around our bones.

In the quiet chambers where spirits weep,
The languor of souls is not death, nor sleep.
A heavy drowse falls over the mind,
Dreamless they drift, through hours unkind,
Sluggish as rivers that time left behind.
We drift too, unaware of the passing tide,
Waiting for something, yet nothing arrives.

Hammer and flame shape the yielding clay,
Desires molten, souls burn away.
In the forge, our bodies twist and bend,
In the heat, our forms remade again.
A smirk from the smith, eyes filled with disdain,
As we degrade, as we burn in vain.
The fire consumes, but nothing is born,
We are shattered, lost to the embers of scorn.

A yawning chasm where passions fall,
The great ennui swallows both great and small.
No fire, no ice, no joy, no woe—
Only the numbness where seeds won’t grow.
All that was once bright has dimmed and died,
Here, in the silence, we are left to hide.
Our hearts beat hollow, no song, no sound,
In the void, we are cast, never to be found.

He spins with a smile, offers his hand,
Steps luring to a forbidden land.
The rhythm beguiles, the music deceives,
But every waltz ends where no soul grieves.
The tempter’s dance sways with silent grace,
Leading us farther from a sacred place.
In the dance of illusion, we lose our way,
A fleeting waltz, the end of the fray.

Deep within, a creature lies,
Silent beneath unseeing skies.
It stirs not for love, nor rage, nor fear,
Yet its breath taints all it draws near.
The beast sleeps, its hunger still,
But its shadow spreads on the winds of will.
We are touched by its breath, we cannot see,
The slumbering beast that dwells within me.

A flame that burns but gives no light,
Hollow fires flicker in endless night.
Ashes scattered in darkness and cold,
Dreams feed the fire, but never unfold.
The warmth forsaken, the spark a snare,
Feeding on desires that vanish in air.
And yet we burn, endlessly bright,
Consuming all, but never alight.

A stumble, a slip, the endless slope,
Each grasp at redemption meets no rope.
Fingers claw stone as faith wears thin,
Downward they fall to the dark within.
The descent is endless, no hand to hold,
A journey into the black and cold.
Each step a loss, each fall a lie,
The void calls louder, we no longer try.

In sleep’s embrace, terror unfolds,
Phantoms and echoes that truth withholds.
Eyes closed to light, hearts race unseen,
A nightmare’s grip is sharp and keen.
The dream is real, the terror near,
A world constructed from buried fear.
In the dark, we cannot hide,
For the dream of dread is always inside.

They whisper sweet promises near the ear,
Each honeyed word laced with fear.
Specters of vice, soft as a sigh,
Sharp as a kill, they slip by.
Their voices call from deep within,
Tempting us, drawing us into sin.
We try to resist, yet they persist,
These whispers, these chains, we cannot resist.

A sea unmoved by moon or star,
The stagnant tide flows not far.
Its silent waves reach not the shore,
Life’s current halts forevermore.
Doomed to linger, yet drift away,
Caught in the grip of endless delay.
In this stillness, we cease to fight,
A sea of indifference, void of light.

Stillness, the prison of yearning souls,
Where dreams shatter and time unfolds.
No leap, no fall, no rise, no flight,
Motionless depths are endless night.
We long to move, to be, to grow,
But inertia holds us, keeps us low.
In this curse, we are bound and lost,
Stuck in place, at any cost.

A weighted heart, a dulled refrain,
No fervent fire, no piercing pain.
To exist, not live, in languid disguise,
Slowly we fade where purpose dies.
The sloth of the soul, the weight of the years,
A quiet death amid the quiet fears.
We fade into the nothingness we’ve made,
Unable to stir from the quiet shade.

Pale as mist and cold as stone,
Spectral indifference drifts, alone.
It wanders worlds, yet claims no throne,
Detached from joy, detached from pain.
A formless wraith in a formless plane,
Wandering aimlessly, never to reign.
In this emptiness, we find no guide,
Only the hollow echo of a soul denied.

A cavern vast where echoes ring,
Of nothingness, of no living thing.
It swallows laughter, devours cries,
A gaping void beneath empty skies.
The hollow yawn calls from the deep,
A place where all that once lived sleeps.
And we, too, will fall into its maw,
Swallowed whole by the silence we saw.

In the chains of shadow, we are bound,
In the stillness, no voice is found.
The world is a dance, we cannot see,
A dream of dread that never lets us be.