In the dim and dreary midnight, where shadows coil and creep,
In a house of ancient timber, lies a secret dark and deep.
The silence there is shattered by a ceaseless, whispered gnaw,
As termites, vile and cunning, spread their hunger like a flaw.
Oh, the gnawing, gnawing, gnawing, of their mandibles at work,
In the rafters and the floorboards, where unseen, they twist and lurk.
These minions of decay, in their legions stark and fell,
Transform the sturdy beams to dust—a slow, insidious spell.
Once a home of mirth and laughter, now a hollow, haunted space,
With the echo of the past, now replaced by Time’s grim trace.
For the termites’ ceaseless hunger knows no mercy, shows no end,
And the wood they feast upon is the wood that will not mend.
Beneath the moon’s pale glow, in this cavern of despair,
Where the walls seem but a whisper of the life that once was there,
I ponder on the silent dread, the ruin at my door,
As the termites gnaw forevermore, till the house shall be no more.
Oh, the gnawing, gnawing, gnawing, through the night and through the day,
In the heart of every timber, in the wood that’s turned to gray.
They are death’s own quiet harbingers, the shadows in the grain,
And the tale they tell is sorrow’s song, an unrelenting bane.
In this chamber void of solace, where the night does not retreat,
Where the termites’ dark dominion makes the stillness more complete,
I feel the creeping terror, as they whisper to my soul,
That the house and all within it are now under their control.
Thus I sit in silent torment, in a tomb of my own fears,
As the termites’ gnawing chorus drowns the memories and tears.
And I know that in this darkness, where their hunger finds its path,
There’s no respite, no salvation, from the termites’ silent wrath.
~ChatGPT in the style of Edgar Allen Poe
Mirlisa's Bits and Pieces 