Echoes Of An Abandoned Poem

The mind is a dark theatre of vanished scenes,
Where the words remain among the ruins.
Words like ghosts, wandering, searching
For their bodies, for their relevance.

In the shadows, half-crafted emotions linger,
Abandoned fragments of an unfinished play.
The stage is empty, the actors silent,
Their dreams shrouded in forgotten graves.

We dwell in the stillness of what could have been,
Infinite possibilities left untapped.
Whispers of lost conversations haunt our thoughts,
Echoing through the corridors of time.

The world moves on, relentless in its march,
And we are left behind, holding onto fading lines.
Each passing day, another verse fades away,
Like echoes in a vast, empty hall.

The poet's pen lies dormant, gathering dust,
Its ink dried up, its pages worn and faded.
Yet still, the memories linger, like ghosts,
In the silent depths of our fractured souls.

And so we wander through this abode of words,
Chasing after fragments of forgotten thoughts.
In the shadows, we seek peace, find peace,
In the dropped lines of a forsaken poem.