In the corridors,
where whispers become echoes,
footsteps hasten, only to pause,
the sound... it loops, it waits,
a mirror cracked in time.

What do we hear?
the ticking, the ticking,
our thoughts, our thoughts,
they seem to echo here,
hollow, hollow, hollow.

Navigate these corridors,
hear the mystery sound,
you are part of it,
it is part of you.

Echo
Silence
Allusion