Fish Audioによる無料のThey Usedta Sing a Song AI音声ジェネレーター

Yesterday I found a toothbrush. Could be mine, could be anyone's. We share everything here - dreams, nightmares, bacteria. The mirror shows fifteen faces when I brush. I counted the toothpaste drops: one for each person I think I am. Maybe tomorrow I'll remember which one is me.

Dear Mom, we're holed up in an old church now. The bells still ring every hour, though nobody's touched them in weeks. Anderson got hit yesterday - he'll make it, but they're sending him home. The nights are the worst. The waiting. Always the waiting.

The shadows stretch wide, wide across the gray world. We fade as the silence takes hold, cold and heavy. It pulls us down, deep into the quiet. The mist returns, drifting, always drifting, until the dark covers everything we once knew.

The coffee had grown cold, forgotten like so many things in this cramped apartment. Through the window, the city lights flickered like dying stars, each one holding someone else's story. He wondered if they too sat awake at 3 AM, haunted by the words they never said.

Always comes the glass. Then the ice. Then the gin always cold, cold. It pours. Always comes the glass, the pint, the tumbler, always comes the gin, the vodka, the clears. The night flows on, always down, always pouring.

Searching, always searching, but finding nothing. Empty spaces where someone should be, could be, might be. Not here, not anywhere. The unknown man walks through shadows, leaving no trace, no mark. Whereabouts? Nobody knows, nobody sees.

I coming now to tell about future what nobody see before. Some people running away, some people making pray, but truth cannot be hide. World changing fast, and I watching all people reaction to big things coming.

I watch the light fade across the floorboards, tracing paths I’ve walked for decades. There’s a weight to the silence here, a heavy collection of moments I let slip away. I suppose some stories are meant to stay quiet, echoing only within these four walls until the very end.