This is the shell of whom I used to be,
I am my shadow,
the crumbs of the me before me
The dregs of my soul left in the cup of my heart
A heart that now pumps without will or drive
Just surviving by anatomy and science
nothing more, just dryness that even the most beautiful soul cannot moisten
The cogwheels chug tiredly,
But no oil can lubricate them
So I lay here thinking of how it might have been
If I never changed, were never changed
©joan_josh
J