The flesh I reside in,
it is my sanctuary,
it is my prison.
The source of my sadness,
the river from which the darkness flows.

Veins of doubt entangle my being,
whispers of malice dance in my mind,
they suffocate me.
Creeping into every crevice of my skin,
deep, deep, reaching into the core of my soul.

My existence is futile, fleeting,
as quick as the smoke of candle snuffed out,
a ghost.
My touch on this plane a mere echo,
a drop falling from leaf, fading from sight.