Beneath the city, a silent domain, Where bones reside, in chambers of pain. A labyrinth deep, a subterranean tomb, What am I, sealed in history's gloom?

Stabilizing piece Center of some shaped entry A priority

Get in me, Hold me, Walk me, Toe me Blur me, Cross me, Read between me Draw outside me, so the saying went Write me over and over for your punishment What am I?

Out among the trees, With shelter that moves with ease You'll pay no rent, but might pay fees.

I hide in wood or metal fair, With secrets folded, tucked with care. You pull me out, I slide no more, To guard your things behind one door. But change one sound, and I become The hand that paints, where lines all run. From sketch to scene, I help you see - Two meanings locked in rhyme with me.