Veil of the Cipher


They carved names into stars,
but constellations bled,
Whispers turned to glyphs,
their meanings long dead.
The ink in my veins,
a map you misread,
Does it lead to the end
or the start in your head?


Time folds like a letter never sent,
The seal's still fresh,
but the words are bent.
You call it fate—
I call it descent,
Both trapped in...