The Art of Silence: Whispers of a Broken Heart

In the middle of a crowded street, I stand,
A ghost with a pen in a hollow hand.
We speak in echoes, we smile for show,
But where do the tears of the midnight go?
We build our walls with bricks of gold,
To hide the stories that remain untold.
A thousand "friends" in a digital space,
Yet not a soul to touch your face.
But even a star needs the dark to shine,
And these broken pieces are purely mine.
For in every crack where the light leaks through,
I am finding a version of me that’s new.