An Outlet.

Days drift away.
And I don't move.
Sitting right here, where you left me.
In this place that has no end.
And my dreams have abandoned me.
And my hopes have disintegrated.
There's only me here.
My face in the glass.
A drawn, sunken thing, no longer human.
A face I've grown to loathe.

These idle eyes no longer see.
Stolen gift God gave to me.
I was blind before my sight had failed.
I was deaf before my ears began to bleed.
And I was dead before my heart could cease its beat.
But I feel the age seep into me.
Ancient, tormented, peeling skin.
The memories which will not fade,
have clung to me.
An endless sight I no longer bare to be.
A cage, images seared into my memory.
And these are what I have become.
Time.
Moving.
Moments, stolen.

Misery breeds in idle hours.
Seeking to destroy itself.
Misery I've come to be.
A blind and feeble thing.
A lost and tortured ghoul.
A shadow slipping down the wall.
Meaning flown long ago.  
A wretched mess, no longer recognisable.
The skin has paled. The light has fled. The eyes are sunken. Bones peel out the skin.
Change is coming.
This being recognises itself again. As something moving, feeling, seeing,
Though it has no right to see.
Its blood is warm and trickling.
Rushing through it's veins.
It chest rises. Mine.
Life beckoning beyond the dusty window...
And it no longer matters...What has been.