Writer's Circuit : Omen

Exile

Slouching,dancing, talking, laughing, whispering, leaning
But, I still see a paralyzed room
Slowly surveying emptiness
Those closest to me have disappeared
or were simply mirages as usual

Longing for more than resemblance

Family has tried to come here, and its amazing how
We're related yet never relating
Seems you all have made attempts
As has she, and she...and She.

My comfort in this solitude is my bliss and my hell.

This bliss pushes you away.
This hell creates salty Evian on my cheeks.
This contradiction exhaust clarity.
This blurred state rears confusion.
And all this talk, still leaves isolation.
Tired of this disturbing constant
Between muted screams, I long for the day life is variant.

Omen