moy1moy1

Adrift in the sea of thoughts,
I ponder how I should describe my essence in it's present state.
I have been gloomy all this time,
thinking and thinking on things worth living.
Wounded by despair and anxiety, my soul is famished.
Still, I wonder, what might urged me to do things
that will describe me as someone loathsome?
Still, I wonder why I deserved to be called as such,
yet I don't see anything good from someone who called me as such.
Shall I taunt her hatred by being pitiful in her eyes?
Or should I rather sulk on a corner and mumble in content.
I don't want to talk anymore, for I'm afraid of what I might say.

Going on a paradox, my mind has been.
It sound like straight from that of a jedi master,
but it's all I can process in.
My thoughts were weary, my brain goes blank.
Every time I think of escaping, I only feed fear.
But why am I talking about feeding in the first place?
Why am I talking at random?
Without context, without concrete lines.
It is because I'm famished, my soul is hungry.
I feel empty.

To feed such hunger I drift, like a vagabond, on places I'm not familiar with.
To cure such pain, I learn to cast aside the ever threatening past;
never to haunt me again.
For this day, I will drift along people I barely knew.
For this day,I will be at their side.
For this day onward, I pledge my rebirth.
All in line, in the company of wolves.