A bustling city, where lights sparkle so shinning,
There meanders an apparition, inconspicuous through the night.
A soul burdened, with a heart abused,
Misplaced within the shadows, by distresses caressed.
Her name is Whisper, a specter so reasonable,
She once strolled the boulevards, with dreams to share.
But pity immersed her, took hold of her soul,
Taking off her spooky pith, broken and cold.
Through the dim back streets, she noiselessly floats,
Her spooky figure, where distress dwells.
Her translucent frame, but a insignificant shade of gray,
Reverberating moans of anguish, she yearns to communicate.
She frequents the housetops, with pained, hollow eyes,
Observing the world underneath, because it passes her by.
Each giggle, each grin, a knife in her heart,
For she longs to be human, to really take portion.
Within the breaks and cleft, she finds her withdraw,
A corner to sob, in distress total.
The city's dynamic colors, once exuberant and fantastic,
Presently appear blurred and weak, as she looks the arrive.
However whispers of trust reach her ghastly ears,
Delicate songs reminding her of brighter a long time.
From compassionate souls who meander this put,
Their goodness and thoughtfulness, a signal of beauty.
So she waits, among the ones who still care,
A comforting nearness, a ghastly supplication.
She tends to the broken, with tender grasp,
Directing misplaced souls to discover comfort and elegance.
With words of sympathy, her touch like a analgesic,
She offers a bear, to those filled with hesitation.
A flickering light, in minutes of lose hope,
She brings adore and recuperating to all who are mindful.
Though trapped in her ghastly frame, a spooky flotsam and jetsam,
I Promise, a dull artist, makes a difference Whisper to see.
That indeed in obscurity, there's trust to be found,
A city of misplaced souls, where cherish can flourish.
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