my hands are tired
so many papers etched with ink 
and yet I find no satisfaction 

I can no longer tell time anymore
maybe it's because the clock on the wall has stopped working 
or maybe it's because I cannot climb out of this hole and look out the window
just to see where the sun was resting in the sky

I feel the bile rise up my throat
it is the youth expelling itself from my body because I was a lost soul
who didn't feel free and wasn't reckless enough
to have had it running in my veins anymore

there is no darkness beneath my eyes
or strands of white on my head
to attest to my lassitude
only behind my smile and inside my skull
will you see the ghost I have become

I listen to his music once again
and I hear the gravel in his voice and words hidden in the lyrics he sings
and I realise just how alike he and I are
in the most unconventional of ways

what is it that I am living for
whose dreams am I fulfilling
why am I here, my flame barely burning out
for a future that isn't mine

except he has people who will hear him
while I scream out into the reflection of the mirror

so I drop my gaze once more
pick up the pen 
and exist until I find my answer

— n. u