Another poem. I once had
Something like a soul
Which I could fit myself around
And thus pretend to be human
Once I said
"There is no hope
There is no happiness
There is only pain."
Now the pain is gone.
Am I still alive?
Creepers grow around my soul
And I try to find beauty in their thorns.
My thoughts, ideas,
Dreams, self
Lie cracked and broken
Old and withered and brown.
--- Breathing is important! If you don't breathe, your sound will deteriorate, your phrasing will suffer, and you will die.
