In the garden of waning hopes, my heart, A shattered glass, where shadows silently dart. Despair weaves the tapestry of every sigh, Longing for whispers beneath a barren sky. Anger, a storm, unfurls in bitter grays, Desire, a phantom in sunless bays. Cruelty's knife carves out a hollow fruit, Deceit's sweet nectar, a siren's mute. Lies cascade like autumn leaves, Manipulation, the web one weaves. A narcissist's mirror reflects but one, Shut me out; care's spotlight never spun. Silent my cries, unheard by your shell, No kind words blossom, no comfort where you dwell. Passion, a ghost in a withering frame, Hollow fruit's spoil, a lover's pain.