Oh! Dearest abyss, thou art a song sung by shadows of a thousand whispered fears, reaching forth from the noxious hollows beneath, to touch the dreams that vanish like wisps of strange incense upon the moon's absent breath.
In these abysmal realms where echoes draw near with trembling sighs, a soliloquy bursts forth—a madman's whisper, ornamented with gold-tipped madness, vibrant as the hideous bloom found only in the desolate crevices of the mind.
The void speaks, and lo! It dispenses a curious melange of nonsense wrapped in velvet lies, a tantalizing dirge that enchants the wandering stars. With laughter akin to thunder's kiss, it spirals into eternity—forever, never ending.