The Rant of a Mournful Soul

I am cold, more on the inside than outside.

The winter chills, get to my bones.

I am lonely, in my mind and in reality,

And a year older.

Ages gone by, that I will never get back.

Precious time slipped by,

While I took stock of life and thoughts.

My head throbs, trying to reign my thoughts.

My eyes burn, with many an unshed tear.

My heart flees upon the sight of suffering, and

My limbs shiver, dreading another worthless dawn.

Voices surround me in the dead of the night,

Urging me to heed them.

Rain drizzles down upon me,

Calling me to melt in heaven’s tears.

The Dew drop vanishes with kiss of the sun,

And all I want is to be sublime.

I want to float in the stratosphere

And be a weightless entity.

I want to be like a singular thought

With no cares nor creases.

I want to be me and just live on,

With no garnered hate, but only love to spread.

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