The ancient mummies in their silent tombs,
Preserved through time in deathly rooms,
Still clutching remnants of their hair,
A chilling secret, a tale of despair.
Eyes closed in eternal sleep they lie,
Whispers of a past that makes me sigh,
Mummified forms, a haunting sight,
A mystery veiled in the dim light.
Their hands frozen in a spectral grip,
As if in death they still seek to grip,
What secrets do these mummies keep,
In their silent, eternal sleep?
The air heavy with a sense of dread,
As if the past itself has bled,
Into the present, a ghostly tale,
Of lives long gone, beyond the pale.
What rituals, what beliefs, what fears,
Led to their preservation through the years?
The eerie mummies in their tombs,
A silent testament to ancient dooms.
Their hair still clinging to their heads,
A reminder of lives long since fled,
The chilling secret they guard within,
A mystery that makes my head spin.
In the dim light of the burial room,
I feel the weight of impending gloom,
The eerie mummies in their tombs,
A reminder of mortality’s looms.
