Beneath the mask of flesh, a hunger burns, unseen,

Our shadows stretch through centuries, where light has never been.

We weave among the mortal throng, unnoticed, yet profound,

The silent thrum of heartbeats—our solace, and our shroud.

Eyes that pierce the fragile veil, where time and death decay,

We haunt the edge of memory, and fade like dreams away.

Hands that paint the night in crimson, swift and cold,

The world forgets our deeds, as their stories grow old.

We are the ghosts behind the glass, reflections in the rain,

Familiar faces hiding an eternal chain.

Eternal dusk, our prison and our throne,

Bound to each other, yet forever alone.

In the crowd, we linger, whispers in the abyss,

Unspoken sins engraved in fleeting bliss.

The weight of life, the curse of time, a love that can't release,

We crawl beneath their fragile lives, the architects of peace.

The moonlight carves our silhouettes, invisible to most,

The scent of fear, the fleeting lives, we linger like a ghost.

Their warmth, a fleeting ember, their love a fragile thread,

We steal what time has offered, and leave their dreams for dead.

Crawling through their hallowed halls,

Silent storms behind their walls.

We are the echoes they can't deny,

The unmarked graves where truth will die.

Eternal dusk, our prison and our throne,

Bound to each other, yet forever alone.

In the crowd, we linger, whispers in the abyss,

Unspoken sins engraved in fleeting bliss.

And when the stars dissolve, and silence claims the sky,

We’ll walk the edge of nothingness, where shadows never die.