In shadowed woods where light does fade,
The roots awake in darkened glade.
A pulse of sin, it starts to drum,
As night descends, the forest numb.
The soil beneath, once kind and firm,
Now twists and turns in root-worm squirm.
They crawl, they creep, with life their own,
In deepening dark, a chill is sown.
The thunder growls, a beast unchained,
Its voice of terror, wild, untamed.
With lightning’s strike and fiendish glee,
It lights the sights we dread to see.
The trees, they groan with ghastly sound,
Their branches claw at stars unbound.
A grip of nightmares holds the night,
Where shadows prance in sick delight.
The roots, they snake, a frightful view,
With every step, they follow you.
A hissing whisper, silent screams,
Compose this twisted dream of dreams.
The air, it crackles, charged with fear,
A static wail for those to hear.
The forest’s floor, now dread’s own bed,
Where life and nightmares fear to tread.
A horror’s symphony does play,
On night’s dark stage, the lights betray.
The roots perform a deathly waltz,
In realms where time itself does halt.
The sky, it roars with louder threat,
A storm of fear, in cold sweat met.
The roots, electric, vast, and wide,
Cast eerie spells where fears abide.
Let this poem flow, a stream so dark,
A lengthy trek, a fearsome lark.
A tale of roots, of night, of fear,
In forests where the thunders jeer.
This verse, a haunting, echoing call,
Of forest’s depth and shadowed hall.
A story long, with dread and fright,
Where roots display their fearsome might.
Now comes the twist, the tale takes turn,
In whispered secrets, fears return.
The forest breathes, alive, it springs,
Its roots like serpents, coiling rings.
They rise, they reach, with thorny crown,
A fear that weighs, it drags you down.
The journey’s end, a fate so great,
In forest’s heart, the shadows wait.
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