Meir words are nothing to this feeling.
A sinking peace.
All breath being ripped away.
And my existence is compressed,
into this form of a lifeless...
Every thought is poison to my mind.
And trust is something far from said,
when all life is
but walking dead.
Torn, i look to sit within this
tunnle of space and abyss.
But whispers scream to reach out,
for the hope of a hand.
lay in demand.