Storm Cloud

This mind's a labyrinth of thorns, where every turn leads back to you.

Memories like broken mirrors, cutting deep, reflecting hues of blue.

The soundtrack to this wounded soul a symphony of haunting chords,

Where every note's a whispered prayer, every silence filled with swords.

Can I dismantle this shrine I built, a monument to what we lost?

Can I outrun these phantom hands, break free from love's relentless cost?

They say that time heals every wound, but time's a cruel and mocking friend,

When all I feel is you remain, an echo trapped with no clear end.

I walk the ruins of what we were, a ghost town built on shattered dreams.

The weight of your absence hangs like smoke, distorting everything it seems.