The Feeling Returns

The feeling returns.

Empty.

Alone.

Afraid.

Of being,

Existing,

The lack of meaning,

And the end,

The highs and the lows.

None ever change.

The feeling of emptiness,

That rattles my brain,

Leaves me with nothing.

Empty, alone and afraid.

Inside my mind.

A prison of my brain.

The chasm separating my fate,

From my hopes, dreams and aspirations.

All left when the feeling returns.

Inside my mind,

Only I can hear,

The screams, wails and cries.

Of the tortured soul that lies inside.

The gone person.

The empty soul.

The wrecked person. 

Unfixable,

Unwanted by the world.

All use turned to nought.

Left with lack of feeling.

Of what I do,

Empty, alone and afraid.

The tortured, tormented mind.

The prison for what may be.

Leaving me with nothing.

Just waiting for what may be.

Leaving me with no option, but to hope.

To pray.

For what I cannot do.

What I cannot do, but don’t know why.

Left alone with the torment of my thoughts.

The emptiness of feeling,

The thoughts running dry.

Happiness drying up.

Left with nothing left but torment.

Inside this prison of mine,

My mind,

Left tortured, alone, afraid, empty and left to drift off into oblivion.

This feeling always returns,

And I do not know why.

Left here wrecked, with my heart in hand,

The mind the killer,

Left here to drift off into oblivion, as those feelings return.

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