My gauntly frame, standing so feeble in the reflection of the mirror infront of me.
My destituted soul.
So terrified,
So anxious,  
Of what lies ahead.
This conservative idea of ancient jubilation,
Eating so ferociously at my soul.
This solemn feeling in the Base of my throat,
Tempting me in the silence.
So unyielding.
My gauntly frame so ravenous for attention.
So parched from love.
So eager to find an adored one.