She stands out, a solitary portrait 

      Amidst a sea of hushed whispers.

Her eyes, pools of deep obsidian

      Pierce through veils of time,

      Reflecting secrets of forgotten souls,

      Windows to a world unseen;

      Where ghosts of her past come to 

      Whisper their lamentations.

These spectral figures mere sketches 

      Upon the edges of her existence,

      Haunt her like echoes in a cavernous chamber;

      Their faces, ethereal and translucent,

      Materialize from the depths of her subconscious,

      Wisps of smoke curling around her delicate face.

Each tendril a fragment of a forgotten memory,

      A moment suspended in time, forever

      Engraved upon the tapestry of her mind;

      Remnants of a life once lived

      Now reduced to fading echoes;

      She is a ghost herself, a specter.

Caught between worlds,

      While the ghostly sketches 

      Surround her, speaking of a 

      Past that lingers;

      Her otherworldly presence

      Of hidden ghosts, forgotten memories.

They invite me to confront 

      My own shadows.