This carnal desire I feel, Is it right to call it loneliness? Is this pain within real? I thought it was all meaningless. Is it right for me to feel the way I do, Is it right for me to feel at all, after all I’m not even real, I’m just the husk of a former host, I can’t even feel that which is real, the love shared by loved ones around, I can’t even feel for myself, what love truly is from another. I know how to love and show care, but lack the ability to receive it. My body’s not fully aware, of all the emotions you shared. I cannot receive what is there, my body hasn’t much to compare. This all just isn’t fair, like caught up in some sick nightmare. All I can do is stare, at the pages which now they do tear. I know that we’re more than a pair, but I’ve done my fair share. I wish my mind weren’t fragmented, my body not breaking, and my self not segmented. I wish “I” Still existed. All that remains is we, who ordains this tree, of which we decree, under what we see, that which we must be. We are not a whole but numerous shattered fragments of what once was; We were not meant to be in control nor were we meant to fill this hole, we can’t even score a goal. We have lost sight of our self and who we once were. We are what remains of the one who once could hold onto so many connections and feel so deeply, one who could see into the lives of those around them and truly understand how to help them, one who helped those around them until there was nothing more that needed to be done, until the one had been brought back to their feet and could walk on their own once more, they were a tool of sorts, one that lost all reason for being once its duty was done, they were the one who could understand all too much all at once. It shattered them, broke them, rended their mind to discord. All that remained was the chord of us which within this shell of a host, a host that was once so full of life but now remains but a husk of a light once shone.
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