They are a language to whose eloquence
He toots his horn
Think he is all alone in this world?
Nightmares are his eternal companions
Sorrow and he? Inseparable lovers
Pain and he make good synonyms
Fate grilled his lithe soul
And deemed him unworthy of its goodness.
His eyes, formerly vibrant
Now carry eternal hollowness
As he watches life shred his dreams into a million shackles
He sits stiff.
Over his aliveness
He holds no surety
he withered long ago
Maybe has been alternating between the two realms for too long now
To know the difference
Not finding a bearable middle point
He is punctured..
Diving into broken.