Why was the closest sound to my ears not my own...
Why inside my head did these whispers intensify...

Empty box,
Square shaped in the water...

Minds of a million thoughts,
Souls of a thousand temptations...

Nightingale in the night time sky,
Elbows steady, on the windowsill...

I was wrong to dream,
I was wrong to even hold a thought in my head...

Past the endless elusion in which all of it...
Imaginations and creativity a borderline...

A sheet of blue,
Stillness...

Blank paper in the wind,
Beaten, torn...

A tranquil presence of frost and coldness,
A misery of an unknowing world...

Im in no need of another organism,
Im in no need of anything but my own hands...

Mum you seemed scared of the future,
But I’m still so scared of the past...

*if you read this it would be nice to get some...
Misconception within all that you read? Lies...