| Minutes grow longer and minds become weary. My palms stay empty. I find myself clenching fingertips in desperation. Im at an age of hopelessness, 'tis all. I bet they say it's normal to feel this empty and alone, lonely and crowded, full but starving. We sit in candlelit chambers pondering our existance and misfortunes, never our good fortunes. Flickering light, hurting my eyes, flashing possibilities making my head spin. I turn on the light and come to the realization that Im a melodramatic fool. |