Enter the shadowed mind of Dr. Grimoire, a man who has spent his life delving into the darkest corners of existence-where death and despair reign, and hope withers like the last flicker of a dying flame. In Whispers from the Abyss, Grimoire unearths...
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Beneath the skin, where shadows creep, There lies a world we dare not keep. A heart that beats with twisted rhyme, A soul that cracks with passing time. The flesh, so soft, a fragile veil, Hides secrets sharp as coffin nails.
The blood beneath flows red and warm, But carries whispers of the storm- Of rage untamed, of lust that burns, Of sorrow deep, where madness churns. We smile, we laugh, we wear the face, But deep within, we know our place.
For just beneath this tender shell, Lies hunger black as deepest hell. The mirror's glass, it cracks and shows, The beast beneath, that no one knows. The eyes reflect, but can't contain, The gnashing teeth, the darkened stain.
Beneath the skin, where fear takes root, A forest grows with bitter fruit. Each lie we tell, each sin we hide, A poison ripe, a thorn inside. We claw, we tear, to keep it down, But shadows rise without a sound.
The flesh deceives, it shields the weak, But listen close, the skin will speak. In every scar, in every bruise, The darkness waits for us to choose. It waits in silence, waits to grin, For we are monsters, Beneath the skin.
So peel it back, and see the truth, The rotting core of our own youth. The loves we lost, the dreams we fed, Have twisted roots, and all are dead. No innocence remains intact, The skin is stretched, the bones are cracked.
For in this world, of sin and sin, There's nothing left Beneath the skin.
