journey through

Ghosts Tattered a bridge over an expanse, and a tot tries his way through, his eyes yet to open, his footsteps still drunken, and oh, my heart is running, it is on the brink, and I die a little with every step taken, but it is life, a huge bridge with gaping holes, waiting for you to sink, and your name to be forgotten. I see me in him, a man with the eyes of a hawk, the appetite of a vulture, and the courage of a raven, burnt to embers by the sharp eyes of life, reduced to ashes by the tough fires of hell. I see myself in the past, when I still had life, before I turned into a ghost. I see myself, poisoned by the roots of existence, consumed by the wild and strange pleasures of life, and my time is gone, tortured by pleasures I cannot partake in, for my tongue hath lost taste. Just like the tot, I am blind, too far, too lost to be saved. I look beyond to see my future, but it is a bastard, and my past is an orphan, myself a sterile man who never birthed, but lost. Tonight it shall