I’m sorry to pretend I was profoundly okay.
That I sat there in the car not wanting to face the day.
That I stood there in the awake of your eyes not speaking nor listening.
My head was in a breeze awakening by the fire I breathe..
The taste of pages runs deep, but I am not deep.
I’m not the one suffering under a tunnel of bricks in the darkness to be suffice.
To be sacred in the darkness.
I am a tunnel vision of my own self..

To experience such a soul in their own loops of thinking.
I am not one to think about or dream.
To carve the vision that I’ll do great things one day.
To become something I’m not under the illusion that falls into delusion..
I am many, but not my own existence that carries its own truth.
The truth lies inside of you, but it won’t break loose.
If the string is broken and loose itself loses its own grip overtime.

To fade away from a world is rather painful.
I slipped into my own pain from the chair that gave me hope.
Just like writing this gave me a voice to shadow the ones that slip into nightmares.
I am a soul with wounds.. that’s a thought I wouldn’t bare to say out loud..
To speak the truths that long and wonder around my very soul.