This was supposed to be surreptitious 

But my mind couldn’t take it any longer
Those words had lost their way 

Those letters were now under the shadow of the dark
I was left at a place 

Where I thought denouement begets the beginning
But now the sets were dismantled and the stage was empty

And my love for writing could now be considered an infatuation
My soul lingered in the wilderness 

In search of sempiternal happiness
Those papers bleeding ink

Were now drowning in the oceans
Because the weight of living 

Was killing me from within
And those little pieces I had written 

Were the only things I ever had.