In the quiet halls of the mind,
Where whispers echo, soft and low,
A solitary figure stands confined,
In shadows where no light will go.

Silence wraps its cold embrace,
As stars blink in a distant sky,
Yearning for a touch, a face,
Yet only echoes pass by.

Time drifts on in endless night,
A river flowing without end,
While dreams fade out of sight,
In solitude, the soul must mend.

Hope flickers like a dying flame,
Amidst the vast, unyielding dark,
Yet in the heart, a quiet claim,
There lies a spark, a hidden mark.