Like a drop

Mood: sad
Book: tales of power
Music: Adanowsky

In a moment of silence, I can hear the murmur
the wind striking the solitude of a loud thought
and it breaks like a drop hitting on the floor
etching the silhouette of an empty metaphor...

I sublimate what it is with what it should become,
and the attempts become shallow,
I cannot escape, crashing hopes and fake smiles
we start to fade away with the morning dew...

Out of body sensation, off my senses,
I am becoming a specter of my own ambivalence...
numb at moments,
I cannot make sense out of anything...

the drop's etch remains...