In the silence between the lines,
A storm rages, unfurling the mind.
There’s a whisper of chaos, soft and clear,
A quiet scream that the world won’t hear.

A broken mirror reflects the pain,
Pieces scattered, washed in rain.
Yet still, through the cracks, light seeps through,
A reminder of the things we knew.

The "lack of you" echoes loud,
A void too deep, too dark, too proud.
And yet, the fury we carry, deep within,
Pushes us onward, through thick and thin.

Fire, water—two sides of a flame,
Two hearts, one soul, but never the same.
We walk through crossroads, choices to make,
Stumbling, falling, yet still we wake.

Demons may claw, and nightmares may roam,
But through the darkness, we still find home.
Starved for meaning, hungry for light,
We search for answers in the middle of night.

Prison walls built from the past,
Yet freedom is found when we let go at last.
Through brokenness, through every tear,
There’s a fire inside, burning clear.

So, yes, we’re all broken in some way,
But we stand, and rise, and find our way.
For peace may come after the storm,
And we find our hearts, in a new form.

You speak of demons, of being starved,
But within those words, the truth is carved.
We’re all just fragments, yet still we fight,
Chasing the dawn, seeking the light.

In the fury, the "lack of you," and the breaking—
In all these words, there's life still aching.
A poem for a poet, a soul like you,
Who paints the world with every hue.

- Oliver