Where tombstones weep.

In shadows deep where moonlight’s kiss does fade,
A gothic tale in verse I shall now braid.
Beneath the shroud of night, dark secrets hide,
In whispered winds, the haunted souls confide.

The castle stands, a silhouette of gloom,
Its ancient stones consumed by endless doom.
The ivy climbs, entwined with tales untold,
A history of despair, in whispers cold.

Within these walls, a specter’s mournful wail,
The echoes of a love that didst now fail.
A tragic tale of passion, loss, and pain,
Entwined forever in this cursed domain.

The flickering candles cast a feeble light,
Revealing specters, lost in endless night.
Their hollow eyes, devoid of hope or grace,
Reflect the darkness of this cursed place.

The clock strikes midnight with a mournful chime,
As phantoms dance in rhythm, keeping time.
Their twisted forms, a macabre ballet,
In this eternal night, they’ll ever sway.

Beneath the moon, the graveyard’s shadows grow,
Where tombstones weep, and ancient spirits flow.
The restless dead, in anguish, roam the earth,
Their mournful dirges sing of death’s cruel mirth.

So, heed this warning, mortal souls beware,
For in this gothic world, you’ll find despair.
In every shadow, ghostly whispers play,
And darkness reigns until the break of day.