What am I, without mine words ...

This shell that harbours mine soul, tis
a fragile thing. What dwells within,
now that is even more delicate ...

Handle with care, this package known
as ME. Through the years I hath been
tossed around, shaken and bashed.

See the bruises that litter mine soul?

Broken are mine dreams, shattered and
wrecked, to the core. Yet, some how I
still hold out hope, that tiny glimmer of
light in words that I find dear. Alas, I
can only dream, can I not?

Daydreams, they doth bring tears to mine
eyes like Springtime showers. The longing
for something true , something more. Reality
hinders the imagination at times, with voices
full of rage to tear apart even the most
beautiful of scenes.

I wither, I cry ... I slowly die.

Through words, I pour out mine soul ...

Afraid am I, to speak. These lips, they move
yet no sound emanates from them. I weep
in darkness, shrouded by broken dreams. Is
there not one Knight out there who can save
me from this tower dungeon?

Reality invades mine dreams, as day and night
twist and mix ... surrealism takes hold and I am
left with nothing more than bold images of
what I once thought were true ... in reality.

Dreams, now lost among the floating of clouds,
I am but a rose crushed beneath the hoof of
beasts. Alas, a dream is only just that, a dream.

I scream, I shout ... to no avail.

I am alone, here, in this place. Thy words
bring comfort and shed some semblance of
light upon mine face. Yet, only a dream thou
art be, conjured up it seems, from deep
within my dreams.