As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting the world in shades of melancholy gold, the polling station stood abandoned. Chairs were stacked haphazardly in corners, eager booths waiting silently. The whir of machines, absent; conversation hushed before it could arise. A forgotten anthem echoed in solitude.
Once, elections numbered the promises of democracy, each vote a step towards an uncertain, yet hopeful, future. Faces now overshadowed by regret, yearning for newer tales amidst familiar canvases. With them, the voices of the past shaken in the ballroom of public discourse.
The memories linger, like a ghost of a kind voice in a sterile room. Reminders orbited in static, waiting, unwanted, improbable, passing sorrow, and expectation of the unexpected.
Today, the emptiness speaks loudly, leaving questions answered only in whispered secrets. Some no longer care to hear.