In the quiet corners of the mind, silent screams linger, echoing through the dark tapestries of dreams. Each oscillation a ripple on the pond of conscious existence, an inevitable plunge into the silent abyss.
Does the night listen, or is it merely a void filled with our whispered fears?
We are left to verify truth in the artificial glow of screens, while shadows dance on walls we've forgotten how to see.
Every heartbeat a reminder of rhythm; every silence, a memory of sound.
The endless quest to understand what lies beneath our conscious awning, when each question births more voids.
What if silence speaks louder in its absence?
In this tapestry of introspection, stitched by silence and sound, seek solace in the whispers.