My arms tire of flying through these skies for years,
Off into the expanse of a universe I can never stop to enjoy,
My feet may even forget how to trod, as once as a horse, galloping across the plains, watered by the very salt of my tears.
.
They will never remember me. For I was never important to them.
Giving them the world, even finding love for their broken-hearted shells,
Leaving my own soul in the cyclonic furnace of hell.
.
I know no song. For I haven't played since I'd taken flight,
Forced to give up my chord and string,
My harp and flute cries.
.
I don't remember my own voice,
My thoughts no longer exist,
For, I am invisible.
I am naught but wind.
I am nothing.
Indeed,
I am nothing.
Nothing within.
I am void.
To lose now means nothing to me.
I've never tasted what it's like to win.

© Lunaris