HAUNTED SPACES
Life is cruel yet sacred—never to be cast into void’s embrace,
Though sorrow now seeps through my veins like venom from a tomb’s cold place.
I am no rose that bows to loneliness and fades to dust and grey—
My roots cling deep to earth, where withered thorns still claw and sway.
I may now weep, tears like wax upon this window pane,
Tracing ghosts of yesterday—each memory a phantom chain.
But where my heart once bloomed with light, this eve it wears a veil of night—
How bitter the twist of fate, as joy turns to shadow’s blight.
From downpour’s wrath that shrouds the sky, to air thick with humid breath,
Why does the world mirror my soul—its mood a dance with death?
12222025
©LanZhan
L