"Hope lingers in forgotten spaces, where light dances on the edges of memory and time stands still."
Whispers of morning grace the stagnant floor
Water mirrors tales of what was before
Peeling paint clings to stories, faint and worn
Vending machines harbor echoes of a world now shorn
Clocks hang suspended, caught in the still air
Time's slow passage lingers, heavy with despair
Soft light filters through dust, a ghostly embrace
In this forgotten corridor, loss finds its place.
