Sometimes I sit to write a line and words they do not come
how can I scribe what's deep inside if nothing can be found
I take the time to ponder more, my life perhaps inspire
but nothing found, no thoughts abound, at times my mind does tire
Time I borrow from up above, one day I must repay
I live this life of toil and strife but yet I choose to stay
A ghost to wander all these rooms, a shadow on the wall
marble floors and oaken doors, all closed now down the hall
So now I think , Why am I here? Why do I still exist?
No purpose found, my soul be bound and nothing seems to fit
Things are not they always seem and time is ne'er enough
days go by .... months do fly and years lose those we love
So if you see that I'm not here .... don't look for me to find
Just listen close and you will hear, the echoes of my mind.