In the silent corridors of the mind,
Shadows dance with whispers of the past,
Echoes of battles fought and left behind,
Lingering like a storm that will not pass.

Nightmares cloak the weary soul in dread,
Haunting dreams that steal the light of day,
Memories like ghosts, they gently tread,
In the heart where shadows play.

The world outside may seem so bright,
Yet within, a tempest fierce and wild,
A constant war, an endless night,
Where the spirit is a lost child.

But hope springs eternal in the darkest hour,
Through the cracks, a ray of light does creep,
Healing whispers, like a gentle flower,
In time, the soul will find its peace.