Maybe one day, shadows will dance, whispering secrets in a fleeting trance.

Stars will rewrite stories in the night, painting dreams with ethereal light.

Silent rivers may speak of time, carving tales in a rhythmic rhyme.

Mountains, stoic, will share their grace, echoing wisdom in nature's embrace.

Perhaps one day, the wind will sigh, carrying hopes that never say goodbye.

In the tapestry of existence, threads align, weaving a saga, both yours and mine.

Through the mosaic of moments, we find, a profound meaning in the fabric of time.

One day, the universe will softly say, life is a poem, unfolding every day.

Wanting not to feel so you don't have to be in unfixable pain anymore. The minute you go numb, you wish you could take it all back. You forget who you are, and you hate what you've become. You continue the smiles, the laughter, the act of the perfection but deep down was nothing but a hollow box with a chilling wind the sound of brick tunnel.