In the quiet corridors of broken dreams,
Where echoes of aspirations linger,
A shattered vision rests in fragments,
A mosaic of what was, now severed fingers.

Once, it danced in the moonlight’s glow,
A dream so vivid, a heartbeat’s flow,
But now it lies, shattered, torn apart,
A requiem sung by a lonely heart.

Justified? This shattered dream?
In the wreckage, can redemption gleam?
The narrative unfolds like ancient scrolls,
A tale of hope that silently tolls.

Spoken words, a lament’s refrain,
Echo through the chambers of silent pain.
The dream, once cradled in tender embrace,
Now shattered, lost in time and space.

A narrative spun with threads of desire,
A tapestry set ablaze, consumed by fire.
In the spoken word, a requiem’s plea,
For a dream that once yearned to be free.

In the ruins of what once held sway,
Hope struggles to find a brighter day.
Yet, this shattered dream, a silent cry,
Echoes through the depths of a tear-stained sky.

No justification in the wreckage’s wake,
Only the remnants of a heartache.
In the spoken word, a mournful plea,
For dreams that once were meant to be.

This shattered dream, a painful sight,
Yet within its fragments, a resilient light.
For in the wreckage, seeds of hope may bloom,
A requiem that transcends the silent gloom.

So, let the spoken word echo and resound,
Through shattered dreams, a healing is found.
In the mosaic of broken aspirations,
A whispered promise of new foundations.