futile attempts of a shell of a man
hollow inside and unable to speak.
what is it wrong? he struggles to understand
maybe im too strong... maybe im too weak.
never felt this way before: intrigued by my own distress,
my body is in shambles and my head is a mess.
was it not the right way?
was it not the right time?
did i handle it wrong?
was it all i could find?
frequent attempts of a man who is cold
in this life that gets old, trying to believe in gold.
numb is the man who moves without plans
and dies where he stands
with no last demands.

copyright 2004- J. Marquis