Whispers of the Slothful
Under The Floorboards / 7DS
In a fog where ambition’s flame
is devoured,
we dwell–the shadows
of Sloth’s darkened hour.
Time drags.
A torment of unrealized dreams.
Lost chances drift
in stagnant, still streams.
Amidst unmade beds
dreams lie dormant, unclaimed.
We feast on the desolate,
by apathy tamed.
This abyss where dreams are left to decay
is our domain,
where hope fades away.
In the suffocating silence
souls grow numb and cold,
bound in Sloth’s grip,
their stories left untold.
Potential wanes–
a barren land we tend.
Scoffing laughter echoes
as ambition meets its end.
As day succumbs
to night’s relentless clasp,
we revel in their anguish,
tightening our grasp.
Morning light fades
to endless twilight’s reign.
Dreams crumble to dust.
Ambition, a distant pain.
We are the paralyzing stillness
that remains long after death.
An insidious presence
that consumes with every breath.
We are the echoes
whispering through eternity’s expanse.
An insatiable hunger
gnawing at the soul’s chance.
In the heart of torment
we feast on the slothful and weak,
leaving behind only silence
where their voices won’t speak.