Aurum Requiem

In twilight's hush, where shadows dance and play, A figure emerges, born of darkness and gold. Her face, a mask of sorrow, tells a tale of old, A story woven in threads of pain and decay. Her eyes, like voids, suck in the light around, Leaving only darkness, a chasm profound. The gold that binds her, a latticework of might, A symbol of the chains that hold her tight. Yet, in her beauty, there's a strange allure, A morbid fascination that we can't endure. She is the requiem, the funeral dirge, A lament for all that's lost, a mournful surge. In her, we see ourselves, our deepest fears, Our darkest selves, our hopes, our tears. She is the mirror, reflecting our own demise, A reminder that our time is but a compromise. In Aurum Requiem, we find our own mortal coil, A fragile existence, bound by golden toil.