My divulging outcries should
match the anguished weeks we've had. I've deceived all of
you with obscured replies, and now this distrustful person
I am is hard to understand. But you see, I can't decipher myself,
for I'm a traveler of my own heartbreak. A nomad without a map, searching for this knack to surviving. Deserted on scattered land, and each fighting "I'm okay" evolves me more lost. An unsolvable destination to which discovered, I may uncover a pumping, breathing new body and fresh spirit clean of a blemished memory. Deprived and striving; I'm holding on for that revival of flared hope, to where I cope with these thoughts in a better way. How long can you
thrive on nothing?
Will I last today?
I hold everything in, and then I break. No one gets what I'm feeling, because it usually happens a long time beforehand.
— The End —