There it was; the ancient tomb,
where trespassers meet their doom,
should they walk into the gloom,
evil waiting to consume.
An ancient and evil curse,
carved in stone, in Latin verse.
Acts displeasing and perverse
designed to scare and unerve.
But curious and reckless,
I approach slowly, breathless.
I feel an eerie presence
that reeks of hate and vengeance.
Once within, my torch dies out.
The darkness arousing doubt,
spinning wildly all about
suppressing the urge to shout.
Here she was; the ancient tomb.
An ancient and evil curse.
Too curious and reckless.
Now within, her voice dies out.