I woke up this evening
showered with guilt

I found my body in covers
seven layers of faith
My soul is made up of dust
from destruct of past mistakes
I have a heart made of stitches
threads of melancholic fate

I am not real
the image you saw was projection
the sound you hear is wind
my brain that gave you comfort
is degrading, a ceasing clay

I wanted to be a star dust
to fly above the ground
and to be part of an afternoon sunlight
I will keep a human warm

But I am not real
And I will stay in this forever
even if it don't exist
because in this soulless shell of a body
I can hold you, ghostly friend

Dust, let me be the dust.