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They tore at the threads of my soul,
A silent battleground in the dead of night,
Loved ones turned warriors, swords of words in hand,
Their cruelty dripped like rain—persistent, cold, unending.
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The walls I trusted whispered betrayal,
My heart, a fractured mirror reflecting their scorn.
In the shadowed hours, sleepless and bare,
I stared into the void, begging for silence.
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Each night, a requiem of tears,
Memories clawing like beasts,
Their laughter turned venom, echoing,
While my mind, a restless sea, refused the calm.
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But from despair rose a trembling flame,
Small...