For too long, my life had no meaning,
Until now,  a direction is still what I'm seeking.
And I feel conquered by the darkness of my own making.
The holes inside my soul keeps on growing,
The Devils released from the depths of my own being,
asking things I'm incapable of answering.

For far too long, my life has gone stale and tiring.
From a heart still broken which time is slowly mending,
my mind uninspired and so I've stopped writing,
I've had enough of doing nothing,
of constant wondering,
of questions I, myself, am still asking.

Or Have I?
For far too long, I've lived without living