Alive

Sometimes

I cuddle in the corner

at the far end of the room

thinking i am not dead or alive

a spirit that haunts the earth

walking on grounds others thread

walking into the memory road

feeling the sensations of being alive

when i was truly happy and sad

i could no longer feel a tear

it has frozen with time

like snowflakes in a winters storm

there are no days or nights

worldly perceptions are illusions

the cracks surfaces on the walls

as they crumble down into pieces

the wind takes them away with time

the old destroyed, replaced by the new

I cuddle against the far end of the room

afraid to open my eyes to face the storm

wishing that it would end

as a tear drips from my lifeless eyes