In shadows deep, where whispers dwell,

Every magic story you've been told,

Weaves a spell, a cunning shell,

As sickness dances, brave and bold.

Like golden dreams that shimmer bright,

And everything you want in gold,

It wraps its lies in velvet night,

A tale of warmth, a heart consoled.

Just let me in, the siren sings,

With promises of health and grace,

It tugs the threads of fragile strings,

And masks the truth, a warm embrace.

Cells once pure, now caught in trance,

Entwined in shadows, lost in gleam,

The trickster weaves its wicked dance,

A glimmering, deceitful dream.

Yet in the dark, a flicker stays,

A whisper of the light that’s real,

Through veils of gold and twisted ways,

A truth remains—this isn’t healing steel.

So heed the tales, the riddles spun,

For every charm can hide a foe,

In every magic story run,

A chance to rise, to break, to grow.