As though encased in stone, my feet plod, Their thud echoing through dull, endless halls.
My mind is a shattered jumble, its contents a raging torrent of madness.
My voice, my beautiful voice, manages nothing sans screams of agony.
My tender fingers no longer make music, but instead cry from the thousand pains life inflicts upon me every day.
Darkness swims on the horizon of my heart.
Hate, fear, paranoia, guilt, rage, all form one current of terrifying melancholy where events have made me numb to even the most wretched suffering.
Food is ash, drink is brine, and joy is sin in this world that has forsaken me.