"Isolation becomes the canvas where presence paints absence, revealing the beauty in what we cannot touch."
A ghostly form drifts in a shroud of despair,
Tendrils of sorrow weave through the air.
In solitude's clutch, it dances with fate,
A whisper of life, yet it carries no weight.
Misty silhouettes cloak the world's hidden seams,
Where shadows entwine with forgotten dreams.
Isolation's touch clings close like a shroud,
In this void of silence, the heart speaks aloud.
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