I have been reborn into a dead soul, which lie dormant
|
due to the wounds suffered from past aggressors
|
This tiny minute corner which has been occupied
|
seems so lucid and painful that the blackness surrounding
|
pales in comparison
|
The uneasiness reaches the corners and rumbles
|
every last empty space in-between
|
The anxiety of this birth envelops all which has
|
been known to me as normalcy and forces the consideration
|
of new worlds long forgotten
|
Such reaction is something of true power
|
And this thing, this birth is so undefinable
|
Holding the essence of life and the urgency of death
|
I feel like a madman
|
Insanity rides my gut into the brain
|
and comprehension is suspended
|
Irrational emotional occurrence is all that is left
|
as I grasp for stability
|
This space in my soul needs to be nourished
|
It¡¯s hungry, crying as if it were a newborn child
|
Yearning for affection, for connection, for protection
|
For everything that has been denied in the previous attempts to grow
|
These vibrating pulsations stunning my body
|
throughout the day will not let me forget
|
I am alive
|
|
-----------------
|
Dead Soul
|
Matt Zane |