Wandering Whispers 

In the gloom of the forest, where shadows flare,

Mist clings to the earth with a ghostly glare.

Creatures lurk in silence, their eyes agleam,

Caught in the stillness of a haunted dream.

Beneath the branches, the night's breath stirs,

Shadows beckon, the boundary blurs.

Lost souls tread through the mossy trees,

Gathered in places where the world cannot see.

The moon hangs heavy, a pale, mournful sphere,

Its light casting specters that flicker and veer.

A symphony of echoes from spirits that dare,

To dance in the darkness of the cold night air.

And there, in the quiet, where the lost souls share,

Their tales of longing, their burdens bare.

But nobody hears the silent prayers,

And final whispers wander away without care.

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