In the whisper of autumn leaves, gilded hopes falter. Truth lies beneath, untamed, ugly and raw. Yet, it is in the dance of these fallen petals that we find solace, a haunting melody played upon the strings of reality.
Is there beauty in deception? In the silken web spun by moonlit fantasies? We chase shadows cast by radiant dreams, believing in the light simply because it blinds us to the reality that aches within.
The fallacies we enshroud ourselves with become our beloved sins. Each lie a comforting touch, a flame upon darkened truths. To love these illusions is to court the spiral of time, where moments fold into fractal echoes of what could never be.
Whispered Confessions
Veiled Spectrum