I heard them howl beneath the nave, Where saints once sang above the grave. The chapel cracked, the silence bled, The choir rose — and woke the dead. In shadows deep, I walked alone, Their voices tore through glass and bone… Wolves in the choir, crying my name, Claws in the psalms, setting fire to shame. No angels left, no heaven to claim — Only echoes of guilt, and your voice in the flame. I touched the hymn, it bit like frost, Each note a tooth, each verse a cost. The candles screamed, the pews grew teeth, And I — I sang through blood beneath. Wolves in the choir, devouring light, Hallowed be nothing, sanctified night. No prayer survives the hunger inside — But I still sing… with wolves by my side.
