The Ghost of Routine

The Ghost of Routine - She walked through the years like a shadow, unseen, A name on no lips, a face in no dream. The silence grew roots in the walls of her home, Where the clock ticks loud, and she sits alone. She buried her voice in the frostbitten ground, No songs, no screams, not even a sound. Lonely was handed, not chosen nor earned, So she locked up the ache and let nothing return. Now the kettle sings where no laughter dwells, And the fire burns low in her private hell. Routine is the ghost that keeps her fed, She lives with the living, but walks with the dead. The days stack like stones in a wall she can't climb, Each one a mirror that mocks her with time. No voices return, no memories stay, Even the past has turned away. She stares at the walls where her stories once hung, But the paint has peeled and the pictures are gone. Even her mirror turns empty and grey, No face, no trace, just fading away.

3.84 -AI Art Challenge AevalKitten - The Ghost of Routine -Hosted by Gumnut