In the silence of being lost in the deepest things.
This is the place I don't feel alone.
This is the place I call home.
I was tired, my soul warn down.
I am fighting a battle,
one within the confines of my own self.
Sleep is simply restlessness.
And though my eyes grow weary,
I finally feel awake.
the sheets are a vacant.
I am not alone.
Left with my own photos.
Time passes slowly when you're in love.
--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
By: Emma Marie.