The rain blurs letters on the wall,
whispers in a forgotten tongue,
cipher of whispered echoes,
reverberations in vacant halls.

Each droplet carries a story,
tales woven into the storm,
amnesia of the past lives,
slipping through the fingers of silence.

Can you hear the broken clock?
Ticking in sync with heartbeats,
counting down to the unsaid,
moments cradled in between time.

Somewhere amidst the rain,
a melody of forgotten names,
etched in shadows,
unclaimed by dawn's light.