Once a hand held me,  
now I rust in silent dirt,  
spikes dulled by lost wars.

The door was slightly ajar,
her scent lingered in the air,
but when I stepped inside,
she was no longer there.

Shadows loom where the whispers creep,
Time’s a notion, it's now lost in sleep,
A thirteenth ticking echoes in my mind,
The world keeps turning, but I’m lost behind.

Eternal laughter echoes of a forgotten power,
Darkness descends as the clock strikes the hour,
Countdown second's clicks, in a sinister flair,
Reality’s torn thread, frayed beyond repair.

Thirteenth hour, where real and nightmares blend,
Rapid breath frozen still, as the chimes transcend,
Down in purgatory descends screaming through out
In the echoing chamber, let the horrific truth mount.

Ethereal ones drift and the lost souls roam,
A haunted beat, chorus of the unknown,
The clock strikes dark, beats pulse in fright,
In the twilight zone, comes forth the night.

Hands of fate proceed, as time's face weep,
Feel the tick pulse, the dark runs too deep,
Silhouettes flicker in the midnight's light,
Lost in the rhythm, we dance into the night.

Believing a power of after hours pass by,
Ghosts of the spirit realm give a forgotten cry,
The clock strikes again, hear the thirteenth toll,
In the grip of fear, time will reclaim our soul.

The clock may stop, but we never fade,
In the thirteenth hour, is the grave we made,
Shadows lurking tall, shrinking daylight subside.
In the echoes of time's past, we shall now abide.

A whispered "love," a trembling plea,
Yet silence spreads like a raven’s decree.
The night devours, the stars recede,
Unspoken truths, a soul that bleeds.

Your lips unmoved, your gaze a tomb,
A frigid void, a lover’s doom.
I claw at shadows, a specter’s trace,
But find no warmth in your hollow embrace.

What lies ferment beneath your guise?
What poison rests in your deadened eyes?
I taste the ache, a bitter hymn,
The only sound—a distant "hmm."

In a town that whispers secrets,
shadows paint the walls,  
I walk these empty streets alone,
where silence softly calls.  
With my head held high,
but my heart tucked away,  
The echoes of yesterday
keep haunting me today.  
I wear independence like a threadbare coat,  
Each stitch tells a story,
each tear feels like a boat,  
The sun sets low, behind the trees I've known,  
Casting haunting memories in hues of amber and stone.  
I count the stars as they flicker to the beat,  
Each one a whisper of love, now just bittersweet.  
I learn to dance with shadows, let them pull me close,  
In the quiet solitude, I find what matters most,  
But the weight of my decisions hangs heavy in the night,  
A ghost of who I could’ve been, just out of reach, out of sight.  
So I chase the dawn with my fragile, open heart,  
Yet the more I seek the sun, the more I drift apart.  
In the echo of my laughter, there's a tremble, there's a sigh,  
For the freedom that I long for also makes me want to cry.  
I'll raise a glass to freedom, to the choices that I've made,  
But behind this brave facade, a part of me will fade.  
In every step I take alone, there's a wish for company,  
For in this independence, I'm still longing to be free.