Abandoned Soul
Abandoned Soul
TW: Death
Once I dreamt of
my extreme end-
I had become an abandoned house
A hollow shell;
deficient of art-
My creative self
had died;
my last breath,
leaving with all the colors;
even consisting of all the black's and white's
My rusting soul,
creaked with disintegration,
Like the dead windows
that no more opened
to lively views,
Even the zephyr
could no more open
the dead wooden doors;
of imagination.
I had been diminished into a
shadowless matter;
of no more substance,
and no more rhythm.
No more patterns,
but tunes and heartbeat.
And then I wake up...
only to realize-
that death was not my ultimate end.