In the shadows of her silent room,
Where whispers echo in the gloom,
Sylvia sits with thoughts so deep,
In loneliness, she finds no sleep.

The world outside is cold and gray,
Her heart’s a storm, a fierce display,
Of dreams once bright now faded fast,
In solitude, her die is cast.

Each word she writes a cry for aid,
From the abyss her soul has made,
A poet’s pain in every line,
Seeking solace, seeking time.

Yet still within her, embers glow,
A spark of hope through sorrow’s flow,
For even in her darkest night,
Sylvia’s voice remains alight.