The silence of solitude of life, we dwell,
A lonely echo in our own desolate shell.
Alone for so long, we've grown used to the pain,
Calling it independence, a label we carry.
We've evolved, or so we claim,
But deep inside, it's not the same.
If one misstep taints our perfect facade,
The world deems us flawed, forever scarred.
We navigate life's maze with cautious stride,
Attempting to mask the ache we hide.
Four tasks we juggle, with trembling hands,
Three done well, but one misstep, and it all expands.
The weight of expectations, a burden we bear,
A constant reminder of our despair.
We've grown accustomed to the shadows we cast,
Finding solace in the emptiness that lasts.
Alone, yet not truly free,
Trapped in a cycle of what could never be.
We convince ourselves we're fine, it's true,
But deep down, we ache for normalcy.
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