As I lay here quietly, emerged by the sounds of silence, I want to cry.
Why do I feel so lonely and broken inside?
After all I've done and all I've yet to do,
Nothing seems to be going as planned, no matter what I go through.
Days upon nights I spend waiting and listening for a new voice of encouragement, letting me know I'm doing right.
But sometimes encouragement won't come easily as hoped for, you gotta go the extra height.
Life is a never ending pattern, going in cyclones to reach a non existent goal.
As we try to understand our basic meaning for existence, none will compare to all the myths and legends we've been told.
A movie, a book, a show, a song;
A poem, a word play, a video on how it all went wrong.
You stand by my side till death do my part.
But as the last breath of air departs my lungs I come back to the day I first parted with myself as a cope rather than to salvage my art.
How can I live a lie?
How can I live by the truth?
How am I? A mere mortal. Suppose to do anything I never understood.
When the dark feels warm and the sun sends chills to your core, that's when you realize your time is up.
I loved it once.
I love it still.
Always have.
But never will.
A thought so downright defensive and depressive that I dare to even bother think it into play.
As I sit here to ramble my constant complaints each and every god forsaken day.
Time is a never ending game, where no winners ever prevail.
Only the lucky escape the dreadful grasp lost enough to muster off a sad, foreseen tale.
Woe the dust that cannot erase how long my bones have truly been around.
Forever traveling in loops; until I am too late found.
