Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday
are all but days,
weeks bleed into months and season, which pass into years.
All change, day to night, summer to winter.
Yet i stay the same.
This darkness,
This emptiness,
This black void that i call me.
Will it ever end?
If time changes nothing for me.
Then maybe the only thing left is
to end my own time.
