Why am I here, where every face is stone, And shadows drift through hollow, endless gray? Among the dead, I bleed and walk alone, The only light they try to wash away. They push and press, a cold and faceless tide, Too blind to see the fire that I bear. This scarlet thread is all I have inside, A silent scream of terminal despair. I am so tired of this frozen crowd, Of wearing pain like velvet on my skin. I want to cry, to break, to wail aloud, To find a soul to let my winter in. But they pass by, generic and severe, They never notice how my spirit breaks. Why is the only heartbeat living here The very one that suffocates and aches? Year: October, 2026 Digital Art drawn in Procreate Size: 6000*9000 pixels, 300 dpi