The days and the nights roll on, the only constant in my life. The people come and go, each time taking away pieces of me. One day i'll be nothing. Until that day I move through life like a ghost, an empty vessel, my journey to no where getting shorter and shorter. My past is like an empty glass bottle. It should be filled with the substance I have set my life to doing. Yet I find that success and achievement have met no length or award. And with no substance my past is breakable; so easily shattered that it's as if it doesn't exist to anyone other than the one person who has to clean it up.
I try to run, far away where I can live in peace, but in this world there is no such thing as peace, only destruction and heartbreak. I look to the sky in the high mountains, the crisp blue looking down at me. Clouds roll over to break the beauty and to shower down on me with ice and pain. When will it end?
I fall to the mud, where the earth and the sky fight, the rain pelting down hard on my back. I'm so cold, and I know my voyage won't continue on for very much longer. Is this really the end? Is this really what my life has boiled down to? I yell at the sky asking why, to anyone that might be listening, but suddenly blinded by one ray of light that has fought the grey clouds to shine down, not on me, but in front of me and I look down to see a tiny sign of life, pushing through the destruction to grow. A tiny flower bud, that would live forever.