Feelings hung on a rack

An unrelenting tide of pain sweeps over,
Leaving a trail of broken dreams behind it.
Like a spectre, it lurks, haunting evermore.
In the shadows, where silent echoes quake.

A symphony of broken chords, it weaves,
Resonating with sorrows, unspoken.
As if sculptor's hands, intricately cleave,
Into the fabric of existence, unbroken.

Emotions hung on a rack, left to strain.
In the labyrinth of suffering, they're bound.
Winter's frost settles, a numbing refrain,
In the cold embrace of agony, we're drowned.