It is strange to me,
To think of the obscured memories;
The memories that haunt,
A deep silence is born.
Cold breaths; although warm flesh covers,
My soul begins it's summoning.
Creeping down into my heart,
The slow movement of blood.
The raging pulse inside my mind,
Keeps me here; I am somewhat captive.
My own thoughts surrounding me,
Yet suffocation is unavoidable.
I may only hope for this;
Hoping for the suffocation to consume me.
All that I am,
(What I wish us to be)
Is more then happiness could bare to express.
