The world spins slowly,
Yet we feel nothing.
A strange concept,
That we are in motion,
Yet motionless.
A body, with nerves.
Feeling and thoughts.
Blood and a brain.
All these things I feel
As I feel nothing.
A rush of adrenaline,
and still I tempt my fate.
Tear at my skin to feel again,
but all it brings is tears.
To force myself to feel
is growing quite old.
3 years and I'm still lost.
My head spins.
I sit still.
A strange concept,
That I am in motion,
Yet motionless.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
The world spins slowly,
Yet we feel nothing.
A strange concept,
That we are in motion,
Yet motionless.
A body, with nerves.
Feeling and thoughts.
Blood and a brain.
All these things I feel
As I feel nothing.
A rush of adrenaline,
and still I tempt my fate.
Tear at my skin to feel again,
but all it brings is tears.
To force myself to feel
is growing quite old.
3 years and I'm still lost.
My head spins.
I sit still.
A strange concept,
That I am in motion,
Yet motionless.