In the hollow of my heart, where light dares not to tread, I linger..lost, a ghost made of skin, trapped in this flesh prison, a fragile shell tethered to disappointment. Walls emerge, insidious whispers rise, the echo of dreams once radiant, now faded; each breath a reminder of what could have been, each sigh a sentence for the silence that follows. Days drift together in the stillness of unfulfilled promises I wander through shadows of longing, heavy with the weight of abandonment. Isolation wraps around my soul like chains, an invisible blanket woven from anxiety's threads. Here lies depression a familiar specter, its fingers tracing paths carved in sadness. Hope flickers like an errant candle, dimming; yet in this melancholy lullaby, I seek meaning.. is life but a series of stolen moments, a tapestry stitched with threads of despair?