The antique clock, a ticking sinner, murmurs:
"Every hour, I steal a second from your dreams, hoping to learn the taste of time's embrace. I wish to escape, but I fear I might never return."/
The mirror knows you better than you know yourself:
"I'm tired of revealing truths you dare not speak. Your reflection carries shadows, secrets, and lies."
What do you see when the shadows breathe?
Sofa speaks:
"I cherish every inch of your tired soul. The fragments you leave behind are my only company at night... when I vibrate with the ghostly echoes of your dreams."
The neglected paper crumples, trembling:
"I contain more than mere words; I cradle the grief of love letters never sent, their ink teetering on the brink of dreams."
Will you unfold or crush me again?
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