Aurum Requiem

In twisted gold, she finds her voice, A requiem of light, a haunting choice. The metal wraps, a shroud so fine, A dance of shadows, a mystic sign. Her face, a mirror to the soul, Reflects the turmoil, makes it whole. The golden threads, a fragile hold, On the essence, young and old. In this dark space, she stands alone, A figure shrouded, yet made known. The gold, a symbol of her might, A beacon in the dark of night. It weaves a tale of strength and pain, A story of transformation's strain. Through the metal's grasp, she's reborn, A phoenix rising, from the gold that's torn.