The Woman Who Wept in Ink - #Gimme-Bass-Challenge

This is part of a challenge - using the Persona: Chester Bassington by Hotpot of Genres https://suno.com/@hotpotofgenres Please note... This is NOT a Collab with HoG, I am just using this persona created by them for a challenge they created. ------- ** Music and Lyrics ** ** The Left Hand Tree ** ------------------------------ The Woman Who Wept in Ink ------------------------------ ©TheLeftHandTree https://suno.com/@thelefthandtree https://hyperfollow.com/TheLeftHandTree https://open.spotify.com/artist/5YZwC61jMSuTjAlDC6Vm1K https://www.youtube.com/@thelefthandtree ❤️ Thanks for stopping by and checking out the track. ❤️ === She was drawn in charcoal sighs, stitched together with bad dreams and black thread. A figure too thin for the wind to hold, a face pale as a forgotten page. The birds knew her name before she spoke it, before she even thought to try. They whispered in the hush of dusk, folded their wings, pressed closer. Her dress wasn’t fabric, not really just ink spilling into the ground, spreading like something lost, like a story unfinished, dissolving. She moved, but barely, a flicker between moments, a brushstroke misplaced. You could blink and miss her you could blink and she might never return. She waits, she fades, she melts like rain, drawn in ink, lost again. A ghost in lines, a sigh, a stain, painted once, erased in pain. Time drips slow, the pages turn, but never fast enough to burn. She lingers soft, she lingers deep, a name that even night won’t keep. The birds still whisper in her ears, still murmur secrets from their perches. She listens, always listens, but never answers. What is there to say when the ink runs dry, when the brush stops moving, when the artist looks away? She waits for the next stroke, for colour to return, for someone to call her back, but no one does. She stays a sigh caught in time, a sketch of something almost real, a ghost drawn in lines that won’t hold. She waits, she fades, she melts like rain, drawn in ink, lost again. A ghost in lines, a sigh, a stain, painted once, erased in pain. Falling slow, slipping through, a story left without its cue. She dissolves. And the birds take flight. And the ink dries. === ** Music and Lyrics ** ** The Left Hand Tree ** ------------------------------ The Woman Who Wept in Ink ------------------------------ ©TheLeftHandTree https://suno.com/@thelefthandtree