Heh! What skill do I still wield? A friendly whisper can break the walls of time. When my eyes meet that mirror I shutter to think what this monster inside is capable of doing; ruining decades to come I mumble to myself in the room's corner. Alive is all in the context and how you say it, well then I'm alive alright but hanging on my a thread of soul- Oh! How I would turn back, swim, run, anything to get me back to solid land! My voice sure does carry these days, but does anyone hear me? Hopes are just jitters jumping out my head, and heading for a heap of toppling troubles; to purge my evil I must stay the straight and narrow. With my last gasping words I mutter farewell dear fellow this way apologies can be brief when I ride into this village again one day- that is if I can find the way to return.
Stressed Out
(my nails may bleed, this is the only way my thoughts flee.)
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