Desolation

I wander, a ghost in a familiar land, searching for a pulse, a spark to ignite.

Lost, not in the maze of streets, but in the labyrinth of my own mind.

Constantly hitting dead-ends and circling back to where I started.

I keep walking, I start running, I gave it my all, only to end up where I started.

Endless corridors, boundless forks, there is no end.

An endless cycle of the same over and over.

Nothing feels authentic anymore, it is all just a copy of a copy of a copy.

An unrelenting maelstrom, only dragging me further inward.