In the Shadows
The corners hold a murmur,
a breath against the pane,
a low and restless rustling
like the whisper of the rain.
They gather where the light grows thin,
along the quiet wall—
those shifting little whispers
that seem to fill the hall.
They echo through the quiet rooms
where busy thoughts collide,
a restless tide of words
with nowhere left to hide.
Yet even in the heavy dusk,
beneath the murmuring tread,
there is a quiet, steady voice
that lives inside my head.
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