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Description
The world, a blur of faces, voices, cues,
Each one a riddle wrapped in buzzing news.
A smile? Is it warmth, or just a ploy?
A laugh? Does it mock, or bring joy?

I see the threads, but struggle with the weave,
A jumbled yarn, I long to untangle, leave.
My mind, a kaleidoscope, spins too fast,
Thoughts chase like fireflies, forever lost.

One second, fire burns, ideas blaze,
The next, cold ash, a vacant daze.
I climb with words, then cliffside crumbles down,
My grip too frail, I crash upon the frown.

Hypersense, a symphony of pain,
The rustle of leaves, a hurricane's strain.
Ticking clocks, a drumbeat in my skull,
My teeth on edge, the world too loud, too full.

Friends, faces blur, then come in sharp relief,
Their eyes, a lighthouse in my stormy grief.
But shadows stretch, suspicion takes its hold,
Was that a glance, or judgment, harsh and cold?

The urge to speak, an avalanche unleashed,
A flood of words, emotions barely breached.
Then silence slams, a door swung shut so tight,
No whispered plea can pierce the inky night.

The tasks, a mountain, ever-shifting sand,
My grip on time, a slipping, failing hand.
Start, stop, restart, a frantic, broken dance,
The finish line, a phantom's fleeting glance.

But sparks still fly, in embers of the mind,
A hidden logic, beauty undefined.
In patterns, puzzles, worlds I build alone,
A fortress brick by brick, a fragile throne.

The whispers rise, from depths I cannot name,
A symphony of whispers, not of blame.
They sing of solace, strength in unseen light,
A hidden compass, guiding through the night.

So I walk on, beneath the fickle moon,
My path unsure, yet hope blooms, soft and soon.
For in the cracks, the flaws, the broken song,
I find myself, where I've always belonged.

Description
The world, a blur of faces, voices, cues,
Each one a riddle wrapped in buzzing news.
A smile? Is it warmth, or just a ploy?
A laugh? Does it mock, or bring joy?

I see the threads, but struggle with the weave,
A jumbled yarn, I long to untangle, leave.
My mind, a kaleidoscope, spins too fast,
Thoughts chase like fireflies, forever lost.

One second, fire burns, ideas blaze,
The next, cold ash, a vacant daze.
I climb with words, then cliffside crumbles down,
My grip too frail, I crash upon the frown.

Hypersense, a symphony of pain,
The rustle of leaves, a hurricane's strain.
Ticking clocks, a drumbeat in my skull,
My teeth on edge, the world too loud, too full.

Friends, faces blur, then come in sharp relief,
Their eyes, a lighthouse in my stormy grief.
But shadows stretch, suspicion takes its hold,
Was that a glance, or judgment, harsh and cold?

The urge to speak, an avalanche unleashed,
A flood of words, emotions barely breached.
Then silence slams, a door swung shut so tight,
No whispered plea can pierce the inky night.

The tasks, a mountain, ever-shifting sand,
My grip on time, a slipping, failing hand.
Start, stop, restart, a frantic, broken dance,
The finish line, a phantom's fleeting glance.

But sparks still fly, in embers of the mind,
A hidden logic, beauty undefined.
In patterns, puzzles, worlds I build alone,
A fortress brick by brick, a fragile throne.

The whispers rise, from depths I cannot name,
A symphony of whispers, not of blame.
They sing of solace, strength in unseen light,
A hidden compass, guiding through the night.

So I walk on, beneath the fickle moon,
My path unsure, yet hope blooms, soft and soon.
For in the cracks, the flaws, the broken song,
I find myself, where I've always belonged.