In the shadowed ballroom, the Danse Macabre begins,
A spectral waltz where darkness grins.
The dark river flows as a silent stream,
whispering eternity in a macabre scream.
Through the desperate hours, a dirge resonates a mournful sound.
The dead linger by the river’s edge,
A denouement of life’s final pledge.
In this deserted song, a haunting refrain,
Echoes of silence, where sorrows remain.
En route to destinies, the joker in jest mocks a world unbound.
A dirge for Abigail, a soul laid to rest,
In the quietude, where demons invest
in the dispossessed souls, in the doom they bear,
as the exiled whispers in the cold night air,
they sing the parts of the dirge as doomsday looms, a foreboding hour,
The dreamers dream of a surreal nightmarish flight,
through realms unseen, in the eternal night.
A dirge for the dreamers, a lament’s embrace,
In the complexity of time dark echoes chase
a symphony of sorrow, when left to fate, the demons devour.
WoPoLi 
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