Amidst the shrouded depths, pistons pulse in rhythmic despair, as bolts of solitude echo into the cavernous abysses of the mind, each rusted cog lifting fragments of memories—mechanical in their fortitude yet soft in the resonance of a silent scream.
Herein lies the confluence of azure regrets and tarnished wishes; they spiral within whirlpools of stillness, cradling the moments that once shimmered like phosphorescent whispers in the dark sea.