Sanctum of the Dead and Undone
“Not all graves mourn the same.
Some guard what still breathes.”
Crypt keeper
of graves—
and secrets,
unaware that tombs
hold more than bodies.
They hold entire lives,
layered in manipulation and lies.
I buried each one myself,
wrapped them tenderly in silk,
consecrated graves for my past selves.
You thought tending this mausoleum
would be easy—
an idle post,
not much asked of you.
But this realm is a nightmare,
and dear crypt keeper—
the horrors persist.
What’s been dead
does not stay buried.
You call them creatures—
I call them safety.
Self-doubt.
Insecurity.
Hatred turned inside out.
They guard the softest parts of me,
the vulnerabilities interred with them—
like felines in Egypt,
laid to rest with their pharaohs,
forever intertwined.
Even love,
even warmth,
even the rarest understanding
rests sealed in urns of their own.
So do not be deceived,
dear crypt keeper.
Your job is not easy.
You stand watch
over the most sacred
parts of me.
Sanctum of the Dead and Undone
“Not all graves mourn the same.
Some guard what still breathes.”
Crypt keeper
of graves—
and secrets,
unaware that tombs
hold more than bodies.
They hold entire lives,
layered in manipulation and lies.
I buried each one myself,
wrapped them tenderly in silk,
consecrated graves for my past selves.
You thought tending this mausoleum
would be easy—
an idle post,
not much asked of you.
But this realm is a nightmare,
and dear crypt keeper—
the horrors persist.
What’s been dead
does not stay buried.
You call them creatures—
I call them safety.
Self-doubt.
Insecurity.
Hatred turned inside out.
They guard the softest parts of me,
the vulnerabilities interred with them—
like felines in Egypt,
laid to rest with their pharaohs,
forever intertwined.
Even love,
even warmth,
even the rarest understanding
rests sealed in urns of their own.
So do not be deceived,
dear crypt keeper.
Your job is not easy.
You stand watch
over the most sacred
parts of me.