Corpse in the Coffin

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Terrible shrieks from below,

the castle depths became lit with a sinister glow.


Crawling through the narrow stone halls,

descending the spiral staircase into the stygian abyss.

Tangled in webs like vermin in a trawl,

where the creatures of the night rest in utter bliss.


Shadows danced like shifting fog,

there he was, a corpse in a coffin.

The stench of death reeked of a mired bog,

in the blanket of slumber, the dark prince was anything but rotten.


A humble monster with a history of tragedy,

his sadness gave life to hatred, melancholy dreams plagued him like a malady.

Within the tomb of eternal hatred,

the king of darkness sleeps in a sorrow most sacred.


To foolish eyes he appeared to be dead,

a hollowed shell of a once sickening dread.

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