At the top of the mountain is where my mind is placed In a deep underground hole.

The oceans deepness holds the weakest part of my heart.

In the widest mouths of two furious wolfs sleeps my hopeless soul.

All torn apart, all fearing doubt.

Then who am I?

Who is this living person who speaks?

Who am I who thinks?

Who am I that feels?

That listens, that lives.

Am I that one percent of hope?

Or am I just the lonely one who wished to know,

What is hope.

I ask too many questions yet none of them seemed to have an answer.

There is everyone around me but never one single smile with me.

Not even my own can be placed in my standing sculpture of myself.

But I guess,

I’m the one who molds my joy.

The keyword of my uncertain life right now would be “solitude”

Who holds the purpose I wish I had?

For some unknown reason people think we ourselves make ourselves press the “go” button.

Let’s be real, who makes me want to take that one step decision then?

Someone else holds my reason to press that tempting button, and get out of a messed up cage.

I feel like the bigger bird

But a bird who never grew its wings.

I stay in my nest and analyze them.

Who I actually should be.

No one ever says “I’m sorry”

Everyone always says, “I am who you should feel sorry for”

When will it come back?

My best friend I have never known.

If there was ever one or if there is one to come,

Where and when will I be me again?

Tell me soon.

Before I die here alone, in solitude.