• As I face the oncoming mess,
    I realize I have very few belongings,
    all that I have is what is in my heart, waiting to be thrown away.

    Someone must have thought,
    what you do have matters not,
    yet I stand here empty and ashamed.

    Many don't understand,
    they listened to my thoughts,
    thinking how that was so, so long ago.

    I would not be a human,
    without the weights I carry,
    though I've gathered many up along the way.

    Those weights do mend and break me,
    they dissolve me and shape me,
    and all the others came and watched it all.

    I don't feel normal anymore,
    I feel like someone who went to sleep and died,
    this is surely not the path of life and death.

    I was reminded every day,
    how I'd grow to be a soul worth saving,
    I still believeth not a word they say.

    Maybe I had a greater purpose,
    for doesn't an animal have a dream,
    as it attempts to make its path more clear?

    Always worried about whats next,
    and yet all of this just never matters,
    when I am dying,
    my dreams won't matter.

    THE END...