Roots of Fear

In shadowed depths where nightmares thrive,
vile blooms rise from terror’s seed,
their roots burrowed
where the lost are still alive.

Beneath the floorboards, darkness feeds
on whispers of dread that chill the night.
Twisted stalks from fear’s own blight
sprout in silence, their hunger fierce.

Dreadful flora with eyes that leer,
they coil and writhe in their grim dance,
feeding on the echoes
of our deepest fear.

In the dank recesses they advance,
serrated leaves like ghastly claws.
Each root a thread in this grotesque shawl,
a weaving of anguish and despair
where shadows twist and silence crawls.

The walls themselves begin to brace
as these phantoms of the soil entwine.
With every shudder of the night’s design,
these cursed growths reach ever more,
as if to claim what’s left behind.

Beneath the floor the echoes bled,
a chorus of agony, silent screams,
rooted deep where light has fled.

In darkness’ grip they grow extreme,
in rooms forgotten, their reign complete,
feeding on the fear
of the waking dream.