In the hush of silent echoes,
a poet’s heart does bleed,
Unspoken words, like secrets,
in the depths of the soul it twirls.
To the silent conductor,
who silenced the voice within,
A symphony of solitude,
where pain intertwines and begins.
The admirer, elusive,
in the shadows unseen,
A longing’s ballet,
in realms that lie between.
Lost on paper,
the ink of sorrow’s hues,
A poet’s lament, where solitude ensues.
Whispers echo in the corridors
of pain’s domain,
A silent dialogue,
where emotions wane.
In the solitude of verses,
a poet’s tears softly rain,
A poignant melody, a soul’s silent refrain.
To the one who kept silence,
to the admirer afar,
In the realm of solitude,
where emotions clash and scar.
Lost on paper,
yet found in the poet’s heartfelt strain,
A silent ode to pain,
in the echoes that remain.