The crossroads of shadows within my mind, where darkness and light intertwine

The crossroads of shadows within my mind, where darkness and light intertwine in an eternal dance, I sit in my own solitude, feeling nothing but the painful flatness of existence, consumed by loneliness, why must it be this way? In a room full of people, all I see is my reflection, empty and pale. A weight of stone upon my chest, a grip that steals every breath, in agony, I writhe, a prisoner of unending suffering. My movements constrained, the pain persists, waves of torment intensify, the burden deepens, in pain, I lament, emptied of tears and hope. Sleep has departed, only thoughts remain in a mournful waltz, devoid of appetite, my body becomes a tight cage. I unravel, falling slowly, piece by piece, through the silence of the night, I've sought deliverance, but found only muffled echoes. I am nothing, my image forever tainted by doubt, thoughts that chain me, an implacable barrier, as despair reigns with a crown of thorns, I will never be better. My perception shrouded by a veil of darkness, feelings of despair hold firm like stones crushed under pressure. My heart now knows only the sorrow of an eternal storm, my soul, an abyss emptied of light, an unending night of the grave. Portrayed as a morning without the sun, the feeling of emptiness extends endlessly, the pain persists, and hope slowly fades away. The pain has become an unbearable cadence, now I feel nothing but the silence of a frozen void, the person I once was is lost forever, and what remains is an empty, sterile freeze, devoid of life. Ice flowers bloom on the walls of my soul, as a testament to the cold that has embraced me, in a realm of shadows beneath dead stars, I lose myself, in the ethereal dance of longing and forgetting, aimlessly seeking a spark of what I once was, only to discover crystals of pain in the boundless desolation. Here, in this eternal night of my conscience, where thoughts flow like rivers of silvery mist, I find myself on the edge of my universe, in an endless quest for release, in the inert silence of existence. A kaleidoscope of unknown metaphors finds its place in the tapestry of a frozen heart, an unwritten poem of suffering and melancholy.