She sits where silence folds the day,
A shadow stitched in muted gray.
The stars above, too far to reach,
Their shimmer lost to time’s cold breach.
Her dreams, once bright, now paper-thin,
Drift like ash upon the wind.
Yet in her stillness, something stays,
A breath, a pulse, a thread of praise.
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Author:
Iris Lynn (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2025 07:55
- Category: Sad
- Views: 2
Offline)
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