(Julia’s Poem)
In moonlit halls where shadows play,
A ghostly whisper drifts away.
With mournful sighs and echoes faint,
It haunts the night in spectral paint.
(Bri’s Poem)
He’s in the corners of my mind and the shadows of my room
He’s scraping away every being of my essence, but my pleas are lost on him
He’s the figure I see in the mirror, but I don’t recognize the dull eyes staring back at me
He’s the person I want to be, but the person I won’t turn into