Breathing stops. Snorkeling. Nervous hand but paralyzed. Heart bits without rhythm. The gaze doesn’t know what to stare at. I seek. I don’t know where. In blank but oppressed. Full of storms inside. However empty. Nothing. Nothing to lean on. All of them, around, seems so full, so beautiful, so straight to me. Me, road less, vagabond, is drifting.
I have no words to write. I have no songs to sing. I have no smiles to give. I have no thought to fly. I watch myself erasing, powerless. I have no longer this fire to fight injustice.
Nobody to blame. I haven’t been taking anything. Life is not more or less rough to me, than it is with others. Life plays the tides with me. Each wave, she gathers treasures from unknown depth that she takes right after. Along the tides, I am drifting.
Zyphera 