Wandering, always wandering,
Without aim, without purpose,
The dense woods close in on me,
Tangling around one another at impossible rate,
Branches claw at my skin,
Like hooked knives with razor edges,
Blood seeps down my frail body,
A proverbial pain overcame me,
Wrapping my arms tightly,
I cover the fissure in my chest.
Nobody is coming,
Nobody ever does,
Nobody cares,
In this place,
Quietly I scream,
Silently I cry,
The fault is mine.
I offer my heart unto the world,
Only to have it torn asunder,
Over and over.
I never misplaced my passions,
Nor do I regret my love,
Even if I am left scarred, bruised and broken.
But I wonder,
Is all los