feeilngs

I feel so cold, like the light of the sun has left me far behind in the darkness of the night. A cool wind blows pushing me to the edge. I might just jump the cliff in hope that the fires of hell will warm me up, but as I fall, flames turn to ice. Is there no warmth for the morning soul?

I've walked the desert, hot sand burning through the soles of my feet, forcing on my limbs weak with travel. The night takes over, but I can't stop for rest. I look to the moon begging for sleep, but my journey dare not end. Is there no rest for the weary mind?

A fire burns in the eyes of hatred, setting light to all her lies. The hugs provided for the pain were from the chains dragging through the dirt. Anger driven adrenaline driving on my shackled body. Is there no love for the hated truth?

My mind churns in empty thoughts. Searching answers that can't be found. One thousand problems that can't be solved wrack my brain as I stare at the stars. Is there no answer for the thoughtful wanderer?