Another morning, another mirror, reflecting everything except the unseen weight of yesterday's shadows, scattered like leaves on a forgotten path...
The clock ticks, but the numbers don't matter in a world where time is a velvet shawl draped over the shoulders of the indifferent.
Fossils in the mind, imprints of thoughts long dissolved, yet they cling like barnacles, relentless.
Suspended in the amber of memory, truth lies still, only to be disturbed by the gentle touch of reflection.
The colors fade, yet the light remains, imprisoned in the crystal of yesterday, waiting for tomorrow's embrace.
Forgotten Echoes Insomnia's Whisper Deluge of Shadows