Dismal Skies (Poetry)

Not Immortal

For years in a dead world,
soul numbed to the point of no return.

Like a puppet being controlled,
no free will, doing what I'm told.

The rhythm of my voice seems hollow,
mind locked away, incredibly distant,
frozen, nonexistent.

Cloud of mist, sorrow tear,
echo strong with emotional gear.

Heartbeat, burning light,
threads are cut.

Broken confinement,
dying fight.