Torn being

Dark clouds hang over space With a heavy head , I sit desolate A passer-by can tell by my stance Or by a mere gaze at my face That I have been beaten by the seasons I bow my head and have a look at my hollow chest To have a glimpse at the grey horizon Behind my back My weak knees support my elbows As my frail fingers caress the fragile Skin still holding my bones. Why am I here, I ask my self, For my whole being has been torn from me