Myself

I'm sitting all on my own tonight,
waiting for a prove of faith, something to moist my lips with hope.
Hunt them down, stay alive.
Everything soo out of reach.
Soul ripping from the pain within.
Feeling stuck in a maze surrounded by cold and alone.
Waiting for a prey, craving some more choices for mistakes,
faith at the palm of my hand, to make what I want. I feel
Maybe I'll be cold,
Maybe I'll mourn.
Ripped with false gods and their acolytes,
waiting still for a prove.
Running from myself, trapped in the maze of my oneness.
Everything so out of reach.
Hunt to stop the pain.
Maybe.
Jamie P. Blaze