Day turns to night,
sleep turns to dreams.
A perpetual echo
that reflect reality...

Persistant motion towards the unobtainable.
Something keeps me holding onto nothing.
Run! Sprint! Before it's too late...
But you're far gone and I am beyond lost.

This habitual rain within doesn't help either.
My hazy mind sees no light at the end of
this grueling tunnel...
Advancement through the night brings a bitter morning.

Not a dream, nor reality.
This nightmare conquers me.

I once read,
"The eyes can only see, but the heart,
the heart can feel."

The author knew best,
always has and always will.
And my God how it's true.

Everyday I see struggles.
Everyday I see love.
Everyday. Everday  I see.

But if only I could feel what they do.
I see, therefore I know I have eyes.
Numb, lost feelings blend together.

Most times I don't feel.
I wonder, "do I have a heart?"
And if so, where are my feelings?

Where is my heart?
I felt once before,
will I ever again?

Got some searching to do.
It's as if everything is planned but love.

That's the one wild care.
Everyone I meet, everyone I see,
I find I am searching.

Encountering has become my worst enemy.
What if he's been here all along?
What if I still have yet to find him?
I'll never know till it happens.

They say patience is a virtue,
but this wait is killing me.
It lingers and it teases.

I'm searching, still searching. Always will be.
For someone else or maybe even myself.

I should've known she would come.
Karma - she never did like me.
Using and being used is a cycle,
and it sure goes around.

Understanding feeling or what others go through
is much more than empathy.
Sorrow leads to exhaustion and you become really tired
when you're the only one sorry.
Especially when it's for yourself.

Tired of using whatever that gets me over and by.
She knows the game, better than I did.
Tired of being used by whoever wants to get over and by.
I'm more than that - couldn't they see?

Maybe he was too.
I guess I'm the one who was used.

Fling for me, more for you.
I should've known it was all too soon.
I still wasn't over the one.
Nothing should've ever begun.

I tried so hard to believe there was more.
It killed me right to the core.
I wasn't happy, miserable at best.
You weren't here to stay, simply a guest.

I should apologize. I should say "I'm sorry."
But I'm not, I didn't worry.
I got what I needed.
Yes, it was conceited.

You were used and bruised.