Darkest Dungeon

Twisted screams tear the still night air,
Each moan and groan of pain bringing a midnight scare.
A platelet of blood spray across the hard, cold ground,
Splitting of bone and slashed skin leave deathly a sound.
Steel blades glimmer of crimson taste,
Dripping life from the tip with little haste.
Whispered words of splintered fear,
A face bone dry, not a single tear.
Mutilated bodies piled in water that changed deep red,
Not a single word whispered, not a single word said.
Walls filled with chains and hooks,
And a rack painted black for looks.
Defiled over years of use,
The chains not once gotten lose.

This is a dungeon worthy of praise.