Cracked phone screen, a spiderweb of light, another empty room, another endless night. Band tee stretched thin, a faded, worn-out gray, like the colors of my world, slowly fading away.
Guitar strings hum, a low and mournful drone, a melody of silence, in this house I call my own. Black converse scuffed, a testament to miles, walked alone in shadows, hiding broken smiles.
Rain streaks the window, a blurry, gray cascade, mirroring the tears, that I've long since learned to trade. For hollow echoes, in this concrete, empty shell, where loneliness resides, a story I know too well.
Hoodie pulled tight, against the bitter chill, a desperate attempt, to make this emptiness stand still. But the silence screams, a deafening, hollow sound, in this desolate existence, where I'm forever bound.
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