They watch as we slumber.
Witnesses to deeds best left unstirred, unseen.
Behind the ticking facade hides a rhythm of betrayal;
it marks not mere time, but devours fleeting memories
of heartbreaks, dusk-lit vigils, and stolen moments.
"I remember," it murmurs, "the single tear that soaked
my wooden face during the storm of years gone by."
Canvas flesh painted cracking agony; a gaze
that follows, locks with your own and steals a fragment.
"You laugh," it warns in silence, "of things you do not know."
"He adored someone else, even
as he trembled before your shadow."
In corridors of yearning, encased in iron guilt,
cold metal secrets bend to every whispered cling.
"Locked behind doors," it rasps, "lies the truth never
meant to be discovered by eyes of daylight."
Wonders are whispered to night-bound winds,
speaking not to those who seek, but to those who wait.