The halls still echo with their laughter,
footsteps dancing in the light.
They weave their stories ever after,
while I dissolve into the night.
They hold their dreams like burning torches,
hands entwined, hearts set ablaze.
I sit alone on empty porches,
watching life slip past in haze.
Their voices bloom in golden mornings,
soft with love, with joy untamed.
My world is silent, cold with warnings—
a hollow shell, a life unnamed.
They chase the stars in reckless wonder,
write their names upon the sky.
I watch, I yearn, I sink down under,
asking fate a wordless “why?”
They have their homes, their arms to fall in,
memories carved in time’s embrace.
But I am trapped, the walls are callin’,
a nameless ghost, a fading face.
I reach for echoes, find them empty,
trace my past, but nothing stays.
Regret weighs heavy, days feel plenty,
yet I am lost in endless maze.
Life has no color, no tomorrow,
no hand to hold, no voice to hear.
Just silent screams and drowning sorrow,
just brittle bones consumed by fear.
Oh, how I wish I’d lived that story,
held the sun inside my chest,
but here I sit, no love, no glory,
just shadows where my heart once rests.