The hallway yawns echoing a ghost’s breath

The hallway yawns, echoing a ghost’s breath,

a silence so thick it feels like a theft.

I tread on the linoleum, worn by the years,

a piece of crumpled paper falls—no one nears.

Lockers stand closed, like doors to a past,

the absent laughter lingers, shadows are cast.

The walls still remember the whispers of youth,

a chamber of secrets, where silence speaks truth.