In the dim corridors where shadows dwell,Whispers of the raven’s call resound,A soul wanders through the night’s silent veil,In search of dreams lost, never to be found.

Beneath the pale moonlight, he softly treads,Eclipsed by the weight of sorrow’s embrace,The echoes of his heart’s melancholic threads,Weave tales of despair in the darkest place.

The clock’s relentless ticking marks the time,As spectral figures dance in mournful glee,Each chime a reminder of life’s fleeting rhyme,In Poe’s eternal night, where shadows flee.

Yet in this somber dance of death’s sweet song,His words remain, a testament to pain,A legacy of verses, haunting and strong,In the abyss where only memories remain.