In comitatu lupórum

Adrift in the sea of thoughts,
I ponder how I should describe my essence in it's present state.

I have been gloomy all this time,
thinking and thinking on things worth living.
Wounded by despair and anxiety, my soul is famished.

Still, I wonder, what might urged me to do things
that will describe me as someone loathsome?

Still, I wonder why I deserved to be called as such,
yet I don't see anything good from someone who called me as such.

 Shall I taunt her hatred by being pitiful in her eyes? 

Or should I rather sulk on a corner and mumble in content.

 I don't want to talk anymore, for I'm afraid of what I might say.

Going on a paradox, my mind has been. 

It sound like straight from that of a jedi master,
but it's all I can process in.

My thoughts were weary, my brain goes blank. 

Every time I think of escaping, I only feed fear. 

But why am I talking about feeding in the first place? 

Why am I talking at random? 

Without context, without concrete lines. 

It is because I'm famished, my soul is hungry. 

I feel empty.

To feed such hunger I drift, like a vagabond, on places I'm not familiar with.

To cure such pain, I learn to cast aside the ever threatening past;
never to haunt me again.

For this day, I will drift along people I barely knew.
For this day,I will be at their side.

For this day onward, I pledge my rebirth.

All in line, in the company of wolves.

-j.cruz