The dying embers of my youth are calling out to me. I am lost and miserable, watching life pass me by.
I am chained in a corner of this world because of lines from a book, they call it the word of God but from my experience I know that God never spoke.
And in these times I wonder, why am I still here? to suffer? to feel the joy that spills from the music that I hear? or am I here to make the stars feel less alone as they huddle and watch my misery unfold?
I feel suffocated and loneliness grips at my heart so firmly and painfully that I almost can't bear it. My words die on my lips now, and on my fingertips when I decide to write too.
I have lost my being in a whirlwind of what I see but cannot grasp, I have lost my being dreaming until I got slapped.
The dying embers of my youth shed tears at the loss of the fire that once burned within me. My soul is starting to get covered by frost and the coldness grips at me and my thoughts. I dream of a sun shining from lines on my wrists and oceans stirring from my tear ducts and I am weak.
I am nothing now but a broken soul that sees life as nothing but bleak.