Lost

Lost in a world of shadows and despair,
The stink of terror is strong in the air,
No sense of time or sight or touch,
With only the screaming, you don't know much,
A great inky chasm, a giant dark plain,
Filled with sorrow and grief to drive you insane,
An inhuman cry splits the air,
A spine-chilling scream raises your hair,
A moment of silence, the whispers have ceased,
The air becomes stiller, as we wait for the beast,
A massive horned figure, haunting the mind,
Destroying the souls of any it finds,
Waiting for those still with hope to give up,
It drinks from their souls as if from a cup,
An empty shell is all that's left,
A dusty casket - a broken chest.