Back in this little space of mine, I share a whisper which trembles and breaks in to tears. The words I say jumble and tangle with each other. In this chaotic sprawl, can you see the melancholy that binds it all in a fragile demeanour?

I wonder when is it that I started viewing love as a disease. It has become an emotion that I loathe and wish to cleanse from my system. No matter how many times I try to cure myself, I will always be the diseased. The faster I run, the more vehemently the disease hits back at me. I scream hoping to get it out of my system but it's all futile. Fate only taunts at this pathetic human emotion of mine.

Searching in the abyss for a piece that I've lost,
I know the futility of my actions for this abyss is a piece of me.
Painfully aware, I continue to dig deeper into the abyss.
So deep that I wonder if I'll ever remember what I was searching for.