Crush

He runs the dungeons dark and deep, he has dark secrets he must keep. His name is Crush oh please remember that he's in charge of the torture chamber. He paces through the iron door, and shadows dance across the floor. With heavy keys that clink and chime, He’s seen it all throughout his time. He wears a hood of velvet black, With scars across his sturdy back, And though he rarely says a word, His heavy footsteps can be heard. The walls are cold and made of stone, where many people sit alone. He keeps the lanterns burning low, with just a dim and orange glow. The air is thick with dust and mist, a place where sunlight is not missed. He checks the locks on every gate,( deciding every prisoner's fate. ) He has a shelf of heavy books, ( Filled with many ancient hooks.) He knows the paths beneath the ground, Where not a single soul is found. He works until the morning light, then vanishes into the night. For Crush has duties to fulfill, within his castle on the hill. So if you hear a distant sound,( from deep within the frozen ground,)Just know that Crush is standing near, the name that fills the dark with fear . He guards the secrets in the wall, and watches over one and all. A silent ghost within the gloom, who rules inside his stone-cold room. Beneath the floors, behind the grate, He hides a chest of heavy weight. Inside are letters, gold and old, with stories never to be told. He keeps a crown of broken glass, and watches every hour pass, For he was once a noble knight, Before he turned away from light. He guards a map of hidden gold, From kingdoms that were lost of old. He knows the king has done a wrong, and keeps that secret deep and strong. He holds a ring with rubies red,( to honor those who long are dead,) And writes their names upon the wall, So he'll remember one and all. He isn't just a man of pain, He’s caught within a heavy chain. The secrets are his only friends, until his lonely journey ends. He whispers to the silent air, ( A soft and very quiet prayer,) That one day he might leave the cave, And no longer be the secret's slave. He paces through the iron door, and shadows dance across the floor. With heavy keys that clink and chime, He’s seen it all throughout his time. He wears a hood of velvet black, With scars across his sturdy back, And though he rarely says a word, His heavy footsteps can be heard.