Broken: Marching Alone

Mortally slow with deliberate small steps, 
His mind is waving goodbye,
To all of the thoughts it once contained, 
Regardless how much he may try,

Regardless of the meals and water he drinks, 
Regardless of the gym and the sleep,
His mind seems to forget more of itself, 
Forgetting the words when he speaks,

But still, every day, he does what he can, 
He relaxes, tries to think but instead,
He finds himself in this hall void of words, 
Entirely alone in his head,

So I guess, in this space, where he once stored his thoughts, 
He’ll watch his mind waving goodbye,
To all of the things he once knew in this world, 
He’ll sit alone and march off to die.

destinymental illnessquatrain

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