In corridors of echoes, where the tropes collide,
a tale unwinds, not told, yet known,
shadows dance upon the cracked glass,
their whispers a symphony of forgotten prose.
Here lies the hero, yet hollow, a specter wreathed in silence,
the journey, a carousel of myths reborn as fragile truths,
in the funhouse of fate, reflections ask:
is the shattered image whole or simply a facade anew?