Can one hold the bones of dead dreams
With ashes and embers rising in the air
Walking down a grey road with
a beating heart in hand.
Black and chained, strained and pained
to my mind and soul.
For I want to be one who can finally sleep
but with each passing day, I can't seem
to find rest, or peace.
When will it end...?
The method to my madness.
The rage of instability.
The constant lashes and screams of self-doubt.
I feel so hollow...
Tell me.


What remains when a thought is forgotten?
What remains when one feels hollow?