Upon a hill where no light shines,
Where twisted roots through graves entwine,
There lies a tomb of ancient stone,
Its name and fate long left unknown.
The wind, it whispers through the trees,
A sound that brings men to their knees,
For those who hear its mournful song,
Are claimed by forces cold and wrong.
The tomb, it beckons with a curse,
A fate far darker, far much worse,
Than death itself could ever be—
A soul entrapped, not truly free.
They say the crypt was sealed by hands,
Of those who knew the cursed lands,
But still at night the door swings wide,
As if to welcome souls inside.
And once you enter, once you tread,
Upon the path of restless dead,
The air grows thick, your heart grows weak,
The shadows stretch, the floorboards creak.
You try to turn, to flee, to run,
But all the light—it’s gone, it’s done.
A voice behind you calls your name,
And now you’re part of this cruel game.
The walls, they breathe, the tombstone cries,
With hollow moans and empty sighs.
And just beyond the crypt’s cold door,
A figure stirs, it walks the floor.
Its face is pale, its eyes are dead,
Its fingers claw inside your head.
It knows your fears, it knows your shame,
It whispers softly all your blame.
The crypt was built on sin and death,
A place that feeds on every breath.
And now the door swings wide for you,
To steal your soul and pull you through.
The cold it wraps, it pulls you near,
It strips away your final fear.
You know this place, you’ve been before—
In every nightmare, every door.
The tomb was never meant to stay,
Within this world of light and day.
It’s but a doorway, dark and grim,
To realms where shadows twist and swim.
And those who enter, those who fall,
Shall never leave, shall never call.
Their voices lost within the gloom,
Forever trapped inside the tomb.
So heed this tale of ghostly rhyme,
Of haunting, death, and frozen time.
For once you tread the path of doom,
Beware the Haunting of the Forgotten Tomb.
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