In continued motion, my hand rises to stop you. Yet you echo, refusing my heart. I yearn to let you go, I yearn to give you up. I yearn to walk away. The pain in my heart too heavy to bear. I look around at the desolation before me, I wonder on at the break down of what I perceive. Is it all real, the questions in my mind? The mumblings as they go on within me? The things I see and the recreations in my mind? Is it all real?
One day I will pass on, and the musings of my soul will forever be quiet. How do I sleep at night? How do I come round to contextualise the unfairness of the world before me.
