Between the Hollows

In between the crevices of my-
Disillusion, is the stored
Surplus of my indecision
That contributes
To this seemingly impenetrable
Lost state- that I wander in.
This cold fog that forms an
Unyielding maze keeps me
Trapped INside and tricks,
My body into believing I am-
Floating in a warmth of life
When in all actuality
I am not
Living but
Existing, my
Decision (and choices)
Have been robbed of
Merit
My creations-raped
Of superb grandeur,
My eyes- stripped
Of their natural shine,
And my innocence- hides
Behind strong cobwebs
Fabricated from its blatant annual
Neglect.
My body shifts
Into the earths realm
And remains visible
But its substance Hollows
Symbolizing that it projects-nothing
And Stands
for a cause as lost as the soul that wanders
in the chilled fog
of oblivion.