Leaves crinkling with old age,

People breathing, watching their lives pass by.

People don’t know…

They haven’t found their life.

Their life…Their purpose.

And to be trapped in a web crawling with spiders,

Trying to wrap a person’s life up,

Trying to define who they are,

Without even giving one a choice,

Is devastatingly horrible and purely mind crushing.

An island that surrounds one

With its oceans,

Being pulled effortlessly by the moon,

Teases a trapped being,

Pulling one’s mind with the waves,

Slowly losing consciousness.

A lost feeling.   

A feeling so fervent,

it frightens me

to forget it.

It frightens me

that my existence

can vanish away into thin air.

Ponderance of life gives breath to the living who are dead.

The world wants lives.

Lives that can and will protect.

Withering away into nothingness,

giving up on hope,

falling on cracked knees without utter guilt of what the world will be left with,

is the aftermath of darkness seeping into the luminous bulbs of one's eyes,

causing blindness to the heart and soul

about the ponderance of life and its existence.

Why do endless shivers envelope one's mind?

The undying fright of disappearing

without leaving a single trace,

a footstep,

of living for the world.