The Hollow

Beneath the veil of moonlit glow,

The air grows thick with tales of woe.

A haunting voice from shadows deep

Awakens things that never sleep.

--

The gnarled trees, they creak and sway,

Their roots entwined with bones of clay.

The earth beneath you shifts and sighs,

It feels your heart, it hears your cries.

--

A whisper slithers through the night,

A breath so cold it steals the light.

It knows your name; it calls you near,

Its every word a taste of fear.

--

The chill descends, the fog rolls tight,

A clawed hand flickers just from sight.

It draws you close, your will unwinds,

For once you enter, there’s no way to find.

--

The lanterns dim, the silence swells,

From lips unseen, a story tells:

Of souls that wandered far and wide,

And joined the roots, where secrets hide.

--

The darkened ground begins to hum,

A melody that leaves you numb.

The whispers swell, they twist and bind,

With every word, they claim your mind.

--

You run, you stumble, breathless, lost,

The night around you, cold and crossed.

But with each step, you start to know,

The Hollow’s grip will never let go.

--

So heed these words, and tread with care,

For in the dark, they linger there.

The ones who whisper, sigh, and moan—

The Hollow’s children call you home.