The shadows kept secrets; echoes shivered along the cobbled paths, murmuring tales of forgotten dreams, each breath a whispered promise of the nevermore.
A riddle of bone, craving marrow: the unbreakable cycle of arrival and departure. There's poetry in absence, a hollow echo where once stood a figure, now but a memory scattered by the wind.
In twilight’s embrace, the trees speak in rustling whispers, bending with the weight of lost souls. Grasping the language of silence, the air dances, twirling like pale specters around the graves of yesteryears.
Fragmented thoughts arise like ghosts drifting through winter’s breath; unfurling like tendrils of smoke, slipping between fingers as the day bleeds into night.
Yet, who stirs the forgotten dust? Wander here, and taste the sweet decay of time, where laughter merges with tears, and love etches sorrow along the heart's canvas.
Follow me further into this winding maze, where the forgotten souls linger, coiling around marrow-white bones, imploring—do not forget my name.