Forgotten and forlorn, graveyard corridors.
Remains with mold adorn, voiceless orators.
Been haunting here so long.
Observing everything decompose.
until they are all gone.
Assimilating stillness into grave poetry.
In these vaults so lightless, being home to me.
in patience outspread.
O' ruin and decay.
O' gray pits of dismay.
Time has no sense in the realm of the dead.
Where silver-tonqued souls are quietly met.
the idle imbed.
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