Apparent State Of Calm

In this apparent state of calm: Inwards—like eaten by worms—alive! There is no remedy to heal—no balm: Although I try; although I strive. Day by day, I am more consumed: I tolerate the pain—till no pain; The wrecks of yesterday, the doom, I sense them now: —it is insane! If once I knew myself, today I am lost; A vague remembrance passes in mind: Sometimes, I do believe I saw my ghost Somewhere in a dream, I fail to find… I do exist around; but actually, I do not: I have neither eyes for beauty nor heart for love; I do not shine; life is a distant dot; With time I flow…far, far above. Pride does not define my nature, Yet, in isolation, there is a sort of it: In loneliness a wounded heart to nurture, And pride to take in it—reality to split. Cruelty towards myself—a free choice I've made: Through repetition, malicious tortures to endure; Vulnerable and exposed my final state, Till the essence of my spirit's purged and pure. This state of calm became my disposition: I wear it quietly—it fits my inner senses: This apathy has no suspicion That nothing enchants the senses!