My fading Words
I don't know where these words will bring me. I know not if they shall ever be more than scribbles upon a canvass. I know nothing of what they shall ever be, I merely spill what I feel and move on. But what I do know, is these words are what gives me hope, faith, and resilience to my ever dissolving body.
My words may be only echoes that shall only be spoken till death has claimed me. My words may become like that of a forgotten book to the halls of a library. Covered in dust, bridged in the empty silence.
As these thoughts cross me like a stream upon my skin. I begin to worry, for my lineage is at threat of the fading winds of my lungs. I am dreadful of what shall come of me, as these days are only quickening their pace.
I see myself age with each passing day as does fruit. My words, mimicking my decaying breath. Slowly becoming nothing more than vaped and in-congruent sentences. Held in the underlining of my misery, pleading in the secretive archives of my lines. Hoping, that there will be a hand to meet my.
That I will not always be this isolated man, that only finds peace with ink and pen. I pray that I shall one day be not the tear-less wanderer who aches for love and finds his solitude to be fancied. I wish to place down my armor and let my words no longer be fed by the broken.
But by the new, the uncertain and the brave. I have lived far too long in the confines of my broken heart. Peeling each layer in the chaos of my screams. Only to replace them as I lay in the phobia of promises.
I have laid my heart in the wells of the anxious, of the independent and hopeless for far too long. I am but what many are these days, the shaping of "change" one my say. But what I see, is the end, the curated destruction of love, families, and life.
It is now welcomed to throw you flesh to the whims of its desires. To follow what ever craves your mind, and it is up to the world to welcome your undignified choices. It has become morally just, to be immoral, and I once followed. I allowed the creative thoughts of the "free" to lead me to this desolate and lonely approach to my existence.
I once wished for love long before I understood it. But as I aged, I clung to the lies of the thoughtless, the depraved, and in my following. I ran from my heart and now have found myself near the end of it all. With no legacy and no blood, to pass on.
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