In shadows deep, where whispers wail, A heart alone, battered and pale, What name, I ask, for such a bane, When all you feel is endless pain? In eyes of love, reflections cold, A thousand secrets left untold, Your soul, a burden wrapped in shame, What do you call this weary game? A silent scream, a lonely place, A hollow mask on a fragile face, When laughter's echoes swiftly fade, And darkness weaves its endless braid. To call it by one name, a knell, The toll that binds to private hell— Despair, that whispered thief of light, A shadow that haunts both day and night. Yet still, beneath the weight you bear, A silent strength, a whispered prayer, For even in this dismal theme, Hope stirs its first, most fragile gleam.