In the hollows of an ethereal void, time drips like wax from candlelight—a cacophony of moonlight whispers threads of eternity, spinning tales of souls entangled within an antique clockwork. Here, in the churning gears of existence, echoes gently sway like forgotten memories amidst the sepulchral silence of dead stars.
Beneath the obsidian skies, mad ponderings coalesce like a storm, where shadows pry open the seams of reason. One may find themselves dancing with madness, the flicker of their sanity gaining frayed edges: a fleeting wisp in a cosmos untouched by panic, governed by unseen hands of fate.
Oft the heart wallows among withered petals masquerading as words, while spectral hands brush against the tender filament of dreams once bright, now forlorn. What strange wars ripple across the endless night—a tapestry woven from the fabric of fears and forgotten desires?
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