I’m sometimes seeing,
as a neurotic and chaotic
mess.  An untidy chest of
nothing and nonentity.  
Oppressed by its egoless,  
thoughts, where the
mind bound by thoughts, unkind.
Yearning for freedom, year after year, to unwind–In
silent sorrow and solitude, I will wait,
eagerly, with fearful tears, for a
life without screaming echoes. Where,
Freedom will know no bounds-- In
These dreadful doubts
of distant shouts,
dreams within do dwell.
And like an entropy’s order within, I will
yearn and yield to embrace clarity and break free.