In the quiet corners of a room,
Where shadows dance with despair,
Sylvia’s heart beats, a muted tune,
A symphony of loneliness in the air.

Her words, a mirror to her soul,
Reflecting pain, a silent scream,
In the depths of solitude, she strolls,
Lost in the labyrinth of her dreams.

The world outside, a distant blur,
In her mind, a storm brews wild,
Seeking solace in verses that stir,
The agony of a poet, undefiled.

Yet in her isolation, there’s a spark,
A flicker of hope, a fleeting grace,
Sylvia’s loneliness, a profound mark,
On the canvas of time, an eternal trace.