You creped into my mind without an invitation – where was I, to not pay attention.

The true self lost in the sea of silence – covered by a lid of fear.

Inspiration lost in the awe of sarcastic peace – holding on to the last hope of sight.

My thoughts are put on hold – repeating only sequences of despair.

Emptiness similar to air in my stomach – painful throat searching for a voice

We hold on to the past in worry of tomorrow,

not knowing that the present is the one that counts.

If your lungs would have to worry about the past heart beat,

they would miss the next  opportunity to breathe.

Focus on what glue holds together your body and soul,

If you don’t know what that is, you just found out what you miss.