Knowing who you are and who am I
That makes all the difference in the world.
One moment I know who I am, the next I don’t.
I hate the world; I crave the end of it.
Other times I adore the wonders of it.
I wonder and I sit.
Who am I?
All split up in pieces like shattered glass.
Each bit so broken, far away, lost, unable to repair.
I can only pick from the mixed remains.
I develop a mosaic, made of scores of shattered dreams and identity.
Putting in each piece, I dream for a moment or a second,
Seeing the hopes appear and fade away.
I glue the shattered piece, permanently, on a new pane.
A new dream I hope.
But alas, that pane still can break, sending the mosaic bits flying…
Knowing the inspirations can fail you at any moment.
You struggle to dream.
Each bit, that you fought so hard to make a part of your life is now gone.
In place, void of hope and dreams.
Strange lands beckons you to join.
Gray, unloving and endless.
The horizon appears across, the sun glints white not yellow.
Void of color.
Life is wasted.
A wasteland, where all dreams are thrown away and filling up the dunes.
Rolling hills show all the failed dreams and desires.
Rain falls and they wash down the drain with each drop of water.
Refusing to learn hope again…
The life slows to a standstill.
Time frozen.
No future or no past.
You stand alone, on a vast and barren empty earth.
Sound echoes… alone…
All alone…
Miles and miles away the sound continue to sing
Alone.
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