Of who I could be
I walk the halls
Of my apartment
But the floors,
They don't know me
And the walls,
They don't recognize
My scent any longer
I'm not here,
Though I walk
In my skin,
It's harder now
To figure out
What's wrong with me
Every moment of
This lasting night
Finds me hopelessly
Wondering, wandering
Aimlessly still,
I circle my head
Trapped inside
The inconsistencies
Incapacitate my
Perishing constitution
And I'm losing
My will to accept
My next breath
It seems as though
There might be hope
In what they say:
"There is rest in death".
