On the verge of doom, where shadows cling,
Beneath the endless skies of decay, no light to show.
A land of sighs and tears breathes its last, steeped in dread,
As night consumes, the sun leaves all hopes dead.
The scent of oppression pervades with shadows of despair,
Each dream becomes an illusion as the world lies broken.
The trees stand twisted, their branches bare,
Grasping at the stars as if seeking solace unspoken.
On the verge of doom, the silence reigns,
A haunting emptiness of forgotten pains.
The moon hangs dim, a spectre in the night,
Casting ghostly glimmers, a wicked light.
Raindrops fade softly along the cobbled lane,
Where memories linger, steeped in anguish and pain.
The castle looms, its towers cracked and worn,
A sentinel of sorrow, where dreams are torn.
On the verge of doom, in chambers adorned,
With dust and despair, wraiths of phantoms curl.
They beckon with tales of those lost to time,
Of loves that withered, of life’s cruel rhyme.
Hope strives to cling tenaciously to the edge of the night,
A flicker, a spark, in the grip of the fright.
But darkness devours, as it always has done and always will,
And on the verge of doom, all battles are worthless.
On the verge of doom, the silence hangs heavy,
Darkness creeps upon all realms, its grip tightening fast.
Desire turns to ashes, consumed by the keeper,
In this hollow silence, all dreams are betrayed.
In the echoes of silence, in the depth of the gloom,
Lies the haunting refrain of impending doom.
Among the shadows where the weary hearts dwell,
Forever entwined in the web of the invisible.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
