"Intrigue lies not in the unveiling, but in the quiet allure of what remains concealed."
Beneath a shroud where silence drapes the air,
A figure cloaked in mystery hides their stare.
A glossy mask reflects the unasked truth,
While shadows flicker, weaving tales of youth.
Murmurs of time slip through the veils we wear,
Captivating hearts caught in the quiet snare.
In this stillness, worlds collide and bend,
As unseen stories linger, waiting to mend.
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