It is a lonely place

sitting on the outside

i am looking in

i can see all the places that i have been

but i cannot embrace the soles

not touch all the unamendable miles

that i have tread

i only hear mild echoes of the things that i have said

washing up in haunted waves

slamming against the walls of my mind

why is it always this memory tossed Purgatory that i find?

everyone is laughing and smiling

they are shouting, but it is never my name they’re calling

does this ever end? when will i stop falling?

intricately comprised association to life

on this bed i have created for myself, with a blanket of thorns

for what could have been, my heart still mourns

like looking at a photograph, i am still waiting to embody

memories are flat when they come flooding back

just a gaping hole, this is the end of my track

lost and cut off from progress

never on the inside looking to the eidetic outside

bound to burdens like the scent of a rose, i am confined