“In the sepulchral whispers of time, one often finds what was meant to be concealed.”
Close your eyes, a laughter echoes.
Stolen glances from voids encircle — each hope a shroud of disillusion.
Crumbled stones and forgotten tombs hold secrets layered in dust.
Fragmented days pass,
ciphers etched in crimson, where the light of dusk weaves between the iron bars
of memory and the desolate whispers of bygone eves.
Seek solace in the howling winds.
Dear wanderer, are you merely a dream encased in flesh or a figment lost amid the fractals of the abyss?
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