By JH Sayyar
Within the quiet chambers of the soul,
A silent storm begins to twist and swell,
Where sorrow reigns, shadows take control,
And tears rise up like tides no hand can quell.
The heart, once bold, now trembles in its cage,
Its music drowned beneath the sobbing rain;
What once was joy is now a ghost of rage,
Each beat a mourner echoing with pain.
Yet in weeping, something pure survives,
A fragile truth that sorrow cannot mar—
That love, though wounded, within us strives,
Still clings to light beneath each falling star.
So let the heart weep, tears are not defeat,
But signs that it remembers how to beat
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