follow the stream #1
Today is her birthday comma and I am in misery space i am the son who survived as a brother i don't know what else to do there is no service in my sanctity there's no service in my sanity no service in my sacrifice this is the willingly poem I've probably written with any care or thoughtOr feelingSince the two I wrote on the day she went coldOn the day where she returned to her Lord and Savior and whatever else she believed inThere is nothing left for me hereOthers would say that I am false in that sentiment I am false in that statement but they are not the ones who live with inside my head with inside my bodyThey only see the value of my experienceThe value of my shallow effortsThe valueOf what I bring without ever having to think about the extent of what is being broughtI'm just looking for a way outNot a way in to heavenNot a way into hellJust the way out of existing and a thoughtful thoughtless aimless wandering mindIt is not that I'm lost but there is nothing left for me to findI do not want to be found
