In the quiet of the mind, a silent storm brews,
Whispers of realities blurred, like faded hues.
A dance of shadows in the hallways of thought,
Where fragments of self are endlessly caught.

Mirrors reflect faces I do not recognize,
In the depths of eyes where truth often lies.
The world a distant echo, muffled and unclear,
As I drift through time, a ghostly veneer.

Moments slip through fingers like grains of sand,
A fleeting touch of reality I cannot command.
In this tapestry woven with threads of disarray,
I search for pieces of me, lost in the fray.

Yet in the chaos, a delicate balance I find,
A serene surrender to the echoes of my mind.
Embracing the shadows, I learn to see anew,
In the fragmented whispers, a self that is true.