Soft whispers explode at the edges of consciousness—
Where did I leave my dreams, scattered like fading echoes?
People know, yet never acknowledge the silences—
Each laugh a thread, each tear an unspoken route.
Lost in stories, unfinished and yet deeply felt,
Distances dwindle into the fog that behaves like memory—
The clouds float by, must they carry my fears too?
Each step traces the lines of a map I never owned.
In the corners of every map, a horror waiting—
Places I've sketched yet never dared uncover, like
Hidden functions legislated by a forgotten curiosity.
Continue on... passing through the murmur of forgotten echo chambers.