Life seems ever so close to its end like this circle is ever so slightly complete. I feel weak. In my knees. I never seem able to get to the next square as if time continuously rewinds in different settings. I'm still here. In square one. Life; It's made a mockery out of me. My blood boils my hands are so steady. My feet planted firmly on the ground. But everything else is changing too quickly, it's all flying past me, I can't catch up. Yet today is the same as yesterday and the day before as it was three years ago today. I sing fake lullabies, smile to comfort the darkness. I cringe inside my skin waiting and waiting and waiting without end. I just want to scream, but instead a tear escapes so gently as it rolls down my cheek. I thought I was stronger than this, than you, than it all. But it seems that today has proven I'm just the same as yesterday. I could never attempt to be anything other than what I am and yet I can't be nothing more than myself....myself. Oh this self, the one in the mirror. You looking back at me. Why? Why do you never concede? Why does it seem that somehow you live a separate life away from mine? Why does it seem like I am simply the under turning of your misplaced misery? Is it true? I am but a mere reflection of you? And if so, why are every one of my steps located in the opposite direction of yours? Like you're settled on the correct path while mine is so bumpy and impure. Could it be that I will wake from a horrid dream? Or is so that this rain falling upon my wicked tainted skin is real? It's real... and in fact these raindrops feel so quaint. Only the lonely know such dismay. Only you there knows how it is to be I. The one that sings broken lullabies.
