No matter what I utter, no matter how much I struggle,
The silence is deafening, and the echoes of my own wallowing grow louder by the minute.
The more I yearn for them, the more they elude me.
I'm now barren.
But, if that's the case, shall it be?
In a sea of "What ifs,"
My heart is slowly rotting.
Unbeknownst,
I swallowed my own sorrow.
My mind is swamped with echoes.
The bright lights of the city
My heart pounded.
The echoes continue to reverberate.
