Thoughts of a Loner.

Philomisiaist. (By Sapphirus)

He treads and weaves a world that mirrors a labyrinth,
Each mirror conspiring to reflect his despair,
Lost in between the reflection of false smiles,
And judgemental whispers that sting of venom,
Trust long shattered as the fragile glass it was,
Betrayal's poison coursing slowly through his veins,
Daggers of those who he called his "friends,"
Deep within his back turning hope into a relic,
Relic of distant dreams stained with humanity,
Suffocation tightens it's lingering grip every dawn,
A noose woven by invisible hands,
Sobriety slips like sand through the hourglass of his agonised days,
Society's maw a relentless beast,
Huffing and puffing,
Devours his fleeting light slowly,
Every once bright now mirror the depth of his forgotten soul,
A barren wasteland where nothing blooms,
Nothing but thorny regret,
Where love lies vanquished,
Every breath a struggle as it scales a mountain of despair,
He walks alone in the lurking shadows cast by world,
Unseen,
Unheard,
Unloved.

He treads and weaves a world that mirrors a labyrinth,
In the quiet corners of his mind the demons of fear rise,
Isolation forming a cocoon spun by threads of endless nights,
No solace found in the lasting dawn,
Only the cold light of reality's harsh and prickly embrace,
A relentless tide engulfing his fragile self,
Dreams tumbled,
Shattered and scattered as leaves in autumn's cruel wind,
Hope's embers dying slow,
Smothered by weight of endless sorrow,
Sorrow that beat the "warmth" in his heart,
Pumping agony instead of adrenaline,
Adrift in a sea of days long bygone,
Memories lost of life once full,
He drifts further away from the shore of humanity,
Lost long in his fading abyss,
A silent muffled scream,
Echoing in the chambers of his hollow heart,
Every trailing step a dance in the darkness,
Every thought a plunge in the shadows.

He treads and weaves and world that mirrors a labyrinth,
His eyes searching for an escape,
A fleeting glimpse of peace long lost,
But solace eludes him as he finds abyss greeting his being,
In the crowd he is a phantom,
A ghost at the feast of life and joy,
Revelry mocks his silent agony,
Loneliness etched deep within his bones,
He fades as a whisper long lost in the wind,
A soul adrift in the shadow as he surrenders to the void,
With hatred for love festering as a wound deep within,
He bids his farewell to the glorious light,
As he is consumed in the night's eternal grip,
As he finally says,
"Adios."

~ Sapphirus