Does the specter laugh behind your back? Inside my head, voices weave webs, gentle whispers morphing into screams, relentless, shadowy, they plead and mock, a dance macabre in the hallways of my mind. The truth, you ask? A biter consequence disguised as honey, trickery wrapped in eloquent lies, the sweetest poison. Echoes of Lies resonate.

In the maze, I find solace, a twisted form of it; silence, an ugly companion, yet familiar. Here, where light bends and hides, I see spectral glimmers searching for a home in the void. Fractured Paths lead nowhere, yet everywhere, each step heavy with the weight of unwanted truths.

The mirror lies, reflecting nothing but the absence of substance. In this realm of broken glass and shadows, no one speaks of the truth, yet everyone knows. Where Truth Dies seems an appropriate title, though paradoxical, as death here bears life elsewhere.

Handcrafted illusions by artisans of despair; each thread a story untold, truths stranded, suffocated beneath layers of rich deception. Yet, in the darkest abyss, a single, luminous lie shines like a star through the cosmos of my consciousness. Whispers in Darkness, a tale of spectral resilience.