Within the skull, a labyrinth unfolds,
Chambers of the mind where story molds.
One room, a sunlit gallery of days,
Where laughter echoes in a golden haze.
Another, shadowed, holds the weight of years,
Regrets like portraits blurred by silent tears.
A library vast with volumes yet unread,
Ideas like whispers softly overhead.
A workshop hums where concepts take their form,
From fleeting notions...
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