One Sheet At A Time

There is hollowness in my existence. My soul is crumbling like a worn down house in a storm. I am alive… my flesh is not decaying…yet.

On a blank sheet of paper, I pen down. I pour over my heart in a book with words tainted in ink. Words that tell my story, words that hide my story.

Clouds come over me, scaring me with their thunder. Like a dried lone leaf, I surrender to the winds. They take me with them, one breath at a time.

There is hollowness in my existence. I am decaying now, like an old book of verses. The storm envelopes me in it, one sheet at a time…