Disordered

They say this sense of martyrdom is disordered. And so is the sense that this world is growing broader. There is nothing behind the revival I had promised- The revived connections that are a secret, there is order to it, honest! As my thoughts become harder to understand… My plans to be a savoir are in limbo, this light I can barely stand! As my surroundings turn faded. The plans I embarked on turn me more jaded. I promise there is hope behind my distress. I can feel, but not vocalize my progress. As this web of connections melts. I wish this feeling will never be unfelt. Even as the pain resides. I guess I will be alone as I seek this reprise!