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The world outside feels far away,

A painting, cracked and cold,

Colors blur and twist, unsure,

Of what they’ve meant or what they hold.

The mirror cracks, the faces blur—

I wonder who I’ve been.

But somewhere in the fog I wait,

To find the thread I’ve lost,

And though I seem to disappear,

I fight to know what it has cost.

The sky, a veil of faded blue,

The trees, their shapes obscure,

I walk among them, but I'm not here

A ghost amid ghosts who endure.