The Silent Screams

In the twilight of despair, where shadows dance on shattered dreams, A woman, once adorned with love, now cloaked in the ashen screams. Her heart, a battlefield of sorrow, where war’s relentless tide Stole the hues of joy and left only the sepulchral inside.

Beneath the moon’s cold gaze, her home became a tomb, A haunted hollow, where memories bloom in the relentless gloom. The walls that cradled laughter, now echo with the cries, Of a love lost to the abyss, where the harrowing tempest lies.

The evening breeze whispers tales of a bygone spring, When love was a melody, and hope had taken wing. But now, the symphony is a dirge, a requiem for the fallen, As the war drums beat relentlessly, a cacophony appalling.

A husband’s arms, once a sanctuary of warmth, Lie cold in the graveyard of a war-torn hearth. Sons, like leaves, torn away by the tempest’s ruthless hand, Buried beneath the weight of a war-torn land.

The house, a sanctuary turned into a smoldering pyre, Where love’s embers flicker, consumed by the fire. Each brick, a witness to the horrors of the night, When the bombs fell like tears, extinguishing the light.

Through the fractured windows, the moon casts a pallid glow, On the shards of a life scattered in the aftermath’s shadow. In the mirror, her reflection, a ghostly visage stares, Haunted by the specters of the ones she once held dear.

The garden, once vibrant, now a graveyard of blooms, Petals like memories, crushed by the weight of war’s doom. The horizon, painted with the hues of a blood-stained sun, Reflects the desolation that in every heart is spun.

In the hollows of her eyes, the reflection of a void, A soul once alive, now a war-torn asteroid. Her tears, rivers of sorrow, carve a path through the pain, As the wails of a grieving heart echo in the rain.

Life, a fragile vessel adrift in the sea of despair, Torn apart by the currents of war, leaving scars to bear. The hollowness of human existence, exposed in the strife, As the horrors of war cripple the essence of life.

The battlefield within, where emotions bleed, Suffers the wounds of a war fueled by greed. A symphony of silence, the aftermath of the fight, As the woman stands alone in the desolate night.

Oh, the horrors of war, a relentless, ravenous beast, Feeding on the souls of the fallen, turning joy into feast. In the heart’s desolation, a requiem softly hums, For the woman who lost everything to war’s venomous drums


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