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A castle built on whispers of comfort; A world made of walls I raised myself. Unable to bear the weight of truth, I draped my weakness in silence— I closed my ears, refusing to hear the cries. The cost was my own voice; lost. Yet here I stand, straining to hear once more; Listening for the faint breath within the crowd. Can you hear them? The raw voices, the frail first cries, Resting everywhere in the space between us. Perhaps… they are my own voice after all