Broken!

Hidden, broken, there is this entirely other person inside this unbearable body. Crashed, forgotten, relived, recovered, this sentience just won't stop . A push is always there, the urge, a hope to live, to already experience what exists in the deepest part of me. I see these veins, pulses of the soul rupturing every time I break a bone, broken hope. The monstrosity of reality has scarred my soul and the serenity, the attachment of craving to live in the past. The sky was clear, only clouds never surfaced my existence and now, even when I see the sun shine, I only feel the rain. And then there are these words that are endless, inspire me, let me ponder intensely, with heart and soul, these flow as I vividly paint a picture. It might not always be picturesque, it could be crass and unbearable, but as the last drop of ink spill, a hollowness in my chest, a feel of how the wharves lay empty as the sun dies, how the stars of hope won't heave up and how the black birds won't migrate!