In the silent, shadowed halls of night,
Where whispers dance with ghostly light,
Lies the realm where death does tread,
A sovereign land, where all fear to head.
Cloaked in darkness, a figure so still,
Its presence alone, enough to chill.
With bony fingers, cold and sere,
It beckons souls, both far and near.
In its gaze, eternity lies,
A void as deep as...
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