Absurdity is a commodity

Where is my soul?

Shards of agony pierced in the flesh of today.
A shattered soul corrupted by an overwhelming sadness.
Inadequate,
unending,
going nowhere fast.
Wrought with worthless illusions of the wretched past.
Faded memories lost in a desperate swirl painted on a canvas...
Where is my soul?
Why do I feel so trapped within pestilent time and a decrepit atmosphere?
that willfully drags me far beyond this world,
into a phantasmagoria realm,
where obscurities of the past laugh and dance with frenzy,
as if they were participating in the bereavement of mortality.
Anxiety married with insanity,
the scent of torment carried by hands of the wind.
Wanting to retreat from this perpetual dream,
but it's pointless to resist anymore...
Absurdity is a commodity pondering the plague of humanity,
you can't help but feel insignificant when all you know is erased...