"Solitude breathes stories into forgotten spaces, where every shadow holds a memory waiting to be seen."
Flickering bulbs cast a glow on the walls,
Water collects where silence calls.
Rust weeps from pipes in a forgotten place,
Shadows stretch long with a spectral grace.
Stories linger in the cool, damp air,
Echoes of lives that once wandered there.
Time's soft embrace molds the brick and bone,
In neglect's cradle, the past finds its throne.
