If I could only unsee the truth lurking beneath the surface, a reality dance muffled by a cosmic fog.
No more illusions, only twisted remnants of yesterday's smiles, coalescing into a tapestry of hidden malice.
Can't hold them back. They seep through, unveil the bits of what we bury beneath the radiant veneer.
I sniff the autumnal tremor—a scattered fragment of candor, resonating through the damp street.
Mirages of tranquility, flickers in static loops, taint my waking nightmares with their resilience.
The ugliness rears its inevitable head, whispering legends of what could never be right.
Anguish beneath alabaster facades. An era of glory dissolved in bittersweet tarnish.
Ultimately, the shadows won't relent; they remember, while loss smolders beneath false warmth.