I feel like I'm .slipping.
The loosening of my grasp frightens me
I've only just tasted life
Just starting to see the hope, the beauty in existance....
Have I awakened to late?
To miss the full essence?

The earth tre/mble.s beneath my feet
I fear falling
Into the same old abyss
My [least]favorite ||vortex||

I WILL not give in to old callings
Yet they beg so sweetly...like music to my ears
I wish I could swallow .tat.tered. pride
Beg for help, and yet, as loud as I scream, sometimes, I doubt you hear me.
Do you?

I feel words evading me
Slightly dodging my touch
Avoiding any trace of pen and paper....
Perhaps, I will write no more, the love of words seems to shine down upon me no longer, yet I love it most each moment.

I feel I will [combust].
These words, like unshed tears
Linger, yet refuse to make themselves coherent.

I fear sometimes, I'm being rip\ped away from beauty I only just knew...
Though the memory would imprint images everlasting within me,
I sit paranoid of the first bite of mortailty fading...
I feel so cold.

I would accept this, perhaps try to change it...

...Had I the heart...