"Despair often wears the face of stillness, revealing the depths where transformation waits in silence."
A figure lingers in a corridor's breath,
Tattered garments tell tales of a spectral death.
Flickering lights weave shadows so tight,
Eerie greens dance with dread in the night.
Isolation echoes in the hollowed space,
A haunting stillness clings to time's slow pace.
Revealing transformations beneath tattered cloth,
The weight of the darkness binds us to our wroth.
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