The mirror whispers an echo,
of a world adorned with forgotten shadows,
where time drifts like a feather,
and dreams linger, just out of reach.
Inside the glass, a tremor;
I see an effigy of pale reminiscence,
gliding through corridors of silence,
tracing the outlines of my solitude.
Each glance reveals a story untold,
a verse penned in the language of twilight,
where every syllable sings of an anomaly,
suspended between reality and the void.
Embrace the reflection, once more,
let it unfold the mysteries of a past unknown.
Beneath the surface, a dance of shadows—
a ballet of echoes, hauntingly beautiful.