No Rhyme

I’ve seen, felt, smelled, tasted, thought, and said the most beautiful things and the worst too. All those, my precious faults, fade away at the sound of dawn, when nobody’s out of their tomb. They are guilty memories of previous lives that turn my soul into stones giving room to deep loneliness and endless nostalgia.
Life’s got rules I don’t follow, don’t even understand, so why should I bother? I don’t really know, I just want to see more September’s springs and hear less November’s rains. Sometimes I feel rather dead to alive, but I know death hasn’t come yet. Nobody comes down here. I’m not even here right now.
I feel like sipping from a broken glass of heart breaking sorrow, drowning in an ocean of the bitterest tears, my Styx leading me to remorse and regret. There’s no more hope for me, no more colour, no more wind, no more ice, no more scream, no more beautiful things, no more cry, no more beat, no more horror, no more land, no more glory, no more hatred, no more rhyme, no more me
Sometimes I feel as if the very abandonment has abandoned me…