In shadows cast by absent dawn,
A void where hope has fled,
Yet scars of presence linger long,
In words left harshly said.
Where silence speaks, the heart may mend,
With distance, wounds may close,
But in the grip of venom's hand,
The soul is left to pose.
For empty rooms are cold and bare,
But toxic words embed,
A festering ache, a bitter tear,
More cutting than the dead.
So in the silence of the night,
Or shadows of neglect,
Remember, wounds from presence fight,
A deeper, darker specter's effect.
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Echoes of My Soul: A Journey in Verse
PoetryEchoes of My Soul is a raw, unapologetic collection of poetry that delves into the dark corners of the human experience. Through verses that burn with anger, seethe with hatred, and ache with pain, the author reveals the struggle of confronting life...
