Countless memories, incredible experiences
Yet, on reflection, life is stuck on those few instances!
Like a fluttering kite caught in the branches
Torn and scarred, I fight in vain for my release
Failing to detach from those certain moments deeply entwined
Allowing helplessly as they gradually transform identity
I lose myself a little each passing day leaving empty spaces inside
Struggling to live while dying inside, I stare into the vacuum of life
‘I’ve lost myself; It is not me anymore’, squeezing the voice that keeps screaming
The memories are pushed harder in to the depths of the heart
Bright summer day, a light drizzle, a chilly autumn wind or a sweet smelling spring
They surface back ruthlessly, tearing the layers apart
The life is, but impact of those very moments
Living has been long forgotten; just surviving the aftermath
The person that I am, is whatever left of me after
With no winner but only a fighter, it is a constant battle to be free. To be me.
Born Of Dust 