Existence is blurred
like the red lights which I pass,
accelerating more down the dimly lit street.

Pressing on,
fearing the thought of returning.
To my so called home.

Jaded from time,
exhausted from confliction,
but still, I press on

Forever running,
hurt from my unforgiving past;
Father Time is no longer an ally.

But I still press on,
through all chaos; a sudden loss of faith.
Crashing into reality

Burnt embers,
of the future which was once there.
Lifeless and translucent