Poetry Generator Advanced

In rooms of thought where shadows dance, I dwell— A tangled web of 'ifs,' my mind's gray sea. I cast my line but pull up empty shell. I wear a cloak of questions knit so well, The fabric woven from what might just be. In rooms of thought where shadows dance, I dwell. My soul's a coin that heaven cannot sell, Yet hell’s cashier rings up quite casually. I cast my line but pull up empty shell. Through cosmic books I seek a syllable To spell the meaning, if there's one to see. In rooms of thought where shadows dance, I dwell. The clock hands circle, sketching their own spell, While I dissect each second's boundary. I cast my line but pull up empty shell. No answers echo back from the deep well, Yet still, I ask and yearn for certainty. In rooms of thought where shadows dance, I dwell— I cast my line but pull up empty shell.