I have no roots.
My wings and my heart are tired.
There is no where to land for resting.
There is no home.
I'm fractured.
All that I am is scattered around.
The hands are empty.
The chest is empty.
Life is
There is so much to do,
but what for?
What for all this love?
What for all the knowledge, and understanding?
What for every day, every second?
I'm empty.
I'm exhausted.
I know it is just for now.
I know this will pass.
As everything pass.
I'll pass too.
But life is
Too bad.
I despise the promise of a better future,
when the consecutive presents are just painful.
I despise the It is for the best,
when I'm falling apart and miserable.
I know how to live without you,
but I wanted a life with you.