Tired of falling. Have yet to hit the ground. Back to reality, feet dragging this limp body around. Mentally I’m down, rotten flesh, rejected, splattered without a sound. Worst fear is to die with no one around. How does a king feel suffocated by zeal. Can you truly say the people around loved for-real. Forget the fact the mirror reflects your love back. A life lived with a broken neck, face towards the back. The smallest tree is still envied by the shrubs. Even if all the green in the forest is cut down to make a book with. Offense given, a fence risen, separated, closed off from the world at large. Sad to say, within this small bubble I’m in-charge. I died today and the funeral wasn’t large. Correction Sending out invites, is what I neglected. Piece of mind, laying here forever rested.