20110223

1, 2, 3, 20, 38, maybe 62.

I'm trapped.
Like a bird, able to fly but chained to the sky.
And I have just realized this is all nothing but a cycle and nobody is free.
Tears brim the eyes, but how familiar. Drip, drip, drip, drip down the familiarity of it all.
Look into the mirror and stare at the ugly, ugly thing. Don't you just want to shatter those empty eyes staring back? The audacity of it all.
Open your mouth and scream, listen to the shrill, piercing noise. Of no sound at all.
You are breathing, but you drown in the realness of it all.
Four in the morning to eternity.