You have left me immediately,
Without saying a goodbye or leaving a note.
Mediocrity, what an evil surprise.
Devouring my soul and feasting on my happiness.
Time has made me a wandering ghost.
Scavenging without purpose,
Yet begging for a miraculous moment.
That unstoppable far cry,
Dreadful and agonizing.
Waiting for the presence of the miracle,
Fingers filled with blood,
Body covered in dirt,
Endless tiredness.
Yet he knows,
The miracle will never come
For life has cruelly taken the privilege
All that is left is a wandering ghost
Living in his own madness
Years have shared the cup with the wicked,
He knows the scavenging has come to an end
The prize is lost forever to the cruelty of unknown
Yet he begs once more.
The promised land will let him meet the miracle again.