In the silence of the crowded room,
Whispers weave a delicate loom.
Threads of shadows, threads of light,
Pulling hearts into the night.
Under the weight of unseen eyes,
Dreams are sculpted, truth belies.
Masks of courage, masks of fear,
In the mirror, they appear.
A voice inside, so faint and small,
Struggles against the rising wall.
The rhythm of the crowd’s embrace,
Leaves a mark, leaves a trace.
Yet in the heart, a spark remains,
Defying whispers, breaking chains.
For in the soul, a truth will rise,
Beyond the echoes, beyond the lies.