Outward Perspective from Blank Souls

Words from my lips are those spoken by a surer, stronger, person. The gait to my steps; how my gaze meets another’s without hesitation.

The depth to my discussions and the developed nature of my resolutions are all for not.

Because still in silent times of solitude these forced traits which project gentle, fir, confidence merely fester within my wounds turned scars. Slipping further into the very marrow of my bones to penetrate my chromosomes’ tormenting both body and soul.

My hateful disgust; my spirit racking sorrows are shown to others in weakness as blind anger. Pure and raging flames. But, I wish not to see the world burn.

For I've watched, internally conflicted already as such came to pass.

I am crippled by voiceless sobs in the down pour of blood upon my heaped form sinking into the ashes beneath.

The need to join true silence growing ever stronger. I though; I still am too weak to allow such ascension.