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Poem

In twilight’s grip, where shadows creep,  
A haunted trail begins to weep.  
The wind it howls, a mournful tune,  
As ghosts emerge beneath the moon.  

The gnarled trees twist in despair,  
With every step, I sense their stare.  
Each rustling leaf, a whispered plea,  
For those who tread so carelessly.  

A lantern’s glow flickers and fades,  
While phantoms dance in ghostly parades.  
Their laughter echoes through the night,  
A chilling sound that sparks fright.  

The air grows thick with tales untold,  
Of restless spirits brave yet bold.  
They wander lost in time's embrace,  
Forever seeking their own place.  

Beware the fork where shadows blend;  
Where light and dark do twist and bend.  
For on this path of dread and fear,  
Lies every nightmare drawing near.  

Yet if you pause to listen close,  
You’ll hear their stories—every ghost.   
In sorrow's shade and fleeting breath,   
A haunting song that speaks of death.  

But take heart still; let courage rise!   
For even through despairing skies—    
There’s beauty found in what remains:    
The love that's lost but never wanes.

So walk the trail with wary grace;    
Embrace the fear—the chill—the space.    
For though it’s haunted by the past,    
Each step may lead to peace at last.

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