Shadows cloak the whispers of ancient demise,
A key turns without hand, unlocking sorrow's embrace.
Eclipsed by veils of night, the door yawns open softly,
In the emptiness, your echo sings a dirge.
Twilight, the hour where phantoms dance in sway,
Memory fades, a tapestry of broken dreams.
Fingers of mist trace the window of your mind,
Leaving prints that bleed into reality's seam.
Listen, listen to the heart that beats at dawn,
For each pulse, a secret, a forgotten song.
The key is twisted, yet it sings on its own,
A lullaby of shadows that call you home.