In the quiet corners of thought,a cell—yet not a prison,where shadows murmur secrets,and truth dances in half-light,like flickers of hope weaving through smoke.
Here, I stand,not lost, but searching,in the dim glow of memory,a tapestry of laughter and love,the embrace of family, their warmth sneaking in through the cracks.
What is this distance that feels so close?Words hover, shy and unformed,a map of connection,and I, the explorer,yearning to bridge the gap between silence and sound.
Can I summon the courage to shatter the glass,to reach for hands that feel both near and distant?Even in this tangled web,I find the pulse of life,a rhythm beneath the chaos,the promise of dawn on the horizon.
My walls—stained stories,not just of struggle, but of resilience,each claw mark a testament,each breath a declaration that I am more than the shadows.There is light here,in the mess of it all,and I am learning to dance with shadows,to sing with the echoes of my heart.
What if this cell is not a cage but a chrysalis,where I can unfurl,spread wings of understanding,and rise,not just to escape,but to embrace the journey of becoming,finding the way outin the very darkness that once held me captive?
