In the silence that resonates,
a lament of absences,
the flowers bloom in the shadows,
whispers of a life that fades away.

Eyes searching the horizon
for a trace of hope,
but pain, like a poem,
is sculpted in the words of the day.

The city is a labyrinth of steps
that reflects solitude at every corner -
laughter dissolves in the wind
like falling petals,
disguised in the chaos.

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Ah, to suffer,
is not just an invisible burden
that we drag through the streets of life.
It is the mark, the scar,
of existence that shapes us.

To suffer is the pain
that teaches us to see the world
with weary eyes,
where reality is not a straight line
but a labyrinth of thorns and hopes.

In the deep silence of the night,
where the moon whispers secrets of pain,
we find the echo of...

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