The echo etched walls regurgitate my fleeting thoughts,
I often think about what I am not.
What I can't do, I didn't do, and how I was,
That's my everyday background buzz.
The guilt, the sadness, sorrow and shame.
Will I always feel the same?
Will the sky always have clouds?
Where the despair and fear overcrowds.
Am I to blame for my own sorrow?
Do I dare to see tomorrow?
I don't live for me,
But for the piece of myself.
I guess more time I shall borrow.
-SJ-