Curse Of The Heart
In the cavern of the heart, a curse is spun,
Threads of darkness woven, tight and undone.
A phantom’s whisper stirs the silent gloom,
Where echoes dance in an eternal tomb.
The heart, a vessel fraught with ancient scars,
Holds fear’s chill in its hidden memoirs.
Each beat, a thunder of forgotten grief,
A tempest bound in sorrow’s fleeting leaf.
Pain, a specter with a ghostly hand,
Draws lines of anguish in the shifting sand.
It carves its mark where love was once declared,
A testament to the trust that has been spared.
Fear, the specter of the night’s embrace,
Turns each shadow into a cruel face.
It festers in the cracks of tender dreams,
Where hope, once bright, is lost in muted screams.
Together, they forge a chain of aching might,
A curse that binds the heart in endless night.
Yet amidst the darkness, a spark may rise,
A fleeting beacon in the dimmest skies.
For though the heart is cursed and bound in strife,
Within its core beats the pulse of life.
A courage blooms where shadows dare to start,
A fragile flower in the cursed heart.
So in the grip of pain and fear’s decree,
Let the heart find strength, let it be free.
For even in a curse, there lies a chance,
To turn the darkness into a healing dance.
Curse Of The Heart
In the shadows of the heart, where whispers lie,
A curse unfurls beneath a twilight sky.
Pain and fear, their tendrils intertwine,
Marking the soul with scars that never shine.
Within the chambers where love’s echoes weep,
A haunting melody begins to creep.
The beat, a rhythm of despair’s decree,
A song of sorrow, bound to you and me.
Pain’s fingers trace the heart’s frail, fragile seams,
Fracturing dreams like broken moonlit beams.
Each pulse a dagger, sharp and unforgiving,
In the heart’s dark corridors, we’re living.
Fear, a shadowed wraith, both sharp and cold,
Weaves through the silence, daring and bold.
It wraps around the core, a spectral chain,
Binding hope in a ceaseless, restless pain.
Together, they waltz in a mournful dance,
A cursed embrace of chance and circumstance.
Each step, a tremor through the soul’s deep night,
A clash of darkness with a flicker of light.
Yet in the heart’s cursed, unending plight,
There lies a spark, however small, however slight.
A glimmer that defies the shadows’ claim,
A whisper of strength beneath the pain.
For though the curse may twist the heart’s domain,
Resilience blooms amidst the anguish and the strain.
In the ashes of despair, hope can still ignite,
Transforming the curse into a beacon of light.
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