Living with Demons

Alone, I sit and wonder why?
Unable to climb through the muddy murky sky.
Filled with darkness, tears fall as I cry.
Prayer no longer seems enough; I fear I will die.

A death without dying. but living on;
an island still part of the whole, I cling upon.
Hoping without faith I will survive.
I am dead, but breathing and walking; passerbys believe I am alive.

Why continue without direction to follow?
My compass long broken by past winds; how they did blow!
Standing is impossible, and caught unawares,
I realize at once it is through belief that I will be saved from living this life of dispair.
{/cemter}

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