Being Alive
whispering hands
Posts: 13,527
the day beckons me
Calls me by name.
I cannot hear her shout.
I lose the battle.
I wrestle my demons,
The struggle from within.
In the shadows, hide,
While life passes by.
What is my purpose?
Why am I here?
What did I do,
To deserve this hell?
Sunlight wages war unseen,
Through my soul's windowscreen.
Though I want it,
I cannot see it.
Reaching hands grasp nothing,
Air and fear alone.
I can feel it,
Coming for me now.
Can this be over?
Is this the end?
Or just the start,
To me being alive?
Calls me by name.
I cannot hear her shout.
I lose the battle.
I wrestle my demons,
The struggle from within.
In the shadows, hide,
While life passes by.
What is my purpose?
Why am I here?
What did I do,
To deserve this hell?
Sunlight wages war unseen,
Through my soul's windowscreen.
Though I want it,
I cannot see it.
Reaching hands grasp nothing,
Air and fear alone.
I can feel it,
Coming for me now.
Can this be over?
Is this the end?
Or just the start,
To me being alive?
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"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed".- Carl Jung.
"Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see."- Paul Klee