Unwound Echoes

My spirit's tapestry, unwound, from ancient desert loom.
To spill its vibrant threads, within this twilight room.
Each scar, a silver nitrate stain on velvet, dark and deep.
The final chant from secrets I was sworn to keep.

[Chorus]
Strip the silver, fray the lace!
Let the raw truth find its place!
Every fiber, every ghost,
The very core of what was lost.

[Verse 2]
This breath, a wind-scoured whisper, from a cracked and carven frame.
A molten core of memory, burning through the shame.
I pour the indigo of sorrow, chartreuse of defiance too.
This fragile, precious legacy, I offer up to you.

[Chorus]
Strip the silver, fray the lace!
Let the raw truth find its place!
Every fiber, every ghost,
The very core of what was lost.

[Bridge]
From sand-scoured roots, a nightshade heart still beats its rhythmic drum.
A fierce, forbidden bloom, from which all wisdom’s come.
Bent, but never broken, like a filigree of old.
A story in the silence, more precious than pure gold.

[Outro]
Only echoes, only dust.
My defiant, primal trust.