The Random Muses

Turmoil,
This boiling feeling.

Calmed only by my own tears,
Of contemplating sadness.

New lives delve into mine,
And steal my remaining happiness.

The purpose I had,
Is gone,

The dreams I had,
Are gone,

The role I played,
Has been stolen.

Again, I live in another’s shadow,
When I thought I had escaped it all.

The past comes back to haunt me,
Everything seems so difficult.

So out of reach,
So superficial.

I reflect yet again,
Upon my past.

The present ceases to exist,
And the future remains thoughtless.

The moment I had something,
It was taken from my palm.

My only cure,
Is also my disease.

I have no one beside me,
No longer am I beside myself.

Searching for an answer,
Searching for something to fill this emptyness.

How have I become myself,
And why?

Weakling,
Coward,
Distasteful,
Foolish,
Problematic,
Lazy,
Disgusting,
Just a few words to describe me.

Lost in this oblivion,
I walk alone.

Turmoil,
This contemporary feeling.