The night sighs low, a hollow breath,
A voice that calls from halls of death.
Shadows slither, slick and deep,
Through dreamless minds that dare not sleep.
A candle flickers—wan, afraid,
Its light is consumed by creeping shade.
Echoes twist through broken halls,
A ghostly dirge that haunts the walls.
The air is thick with silent screams,
A chorus drowned in fevered dreams.
Footsteps fall, yet none are there,
Just hollow eyes and vacant stares.
The walls have mouths, they speak in dust,
In whispered tones of rot and rust.
You listen close, they call your name
But turn too fast… and none remain.
ego feels..! 