I am torn. All the wisdom I ever gathered. It seems lost. I cannot remember a word of what I have read. I hint of what I learnt. That is how lost I am. I am lost within my own mind. Like a slave of my own self. However, instead of needs, wants, desires. I am lost within a hollow self. There is nothing. Just darkness. Crushing. Grinning. Congesting. Darkness. Around me. I am a victim of my own design. Or fates Design. I never know. I say I believe in fate. And that I rely on it. But the truth be told I try to master my own destiny. I try to earn my own keep. I say I believe in chaos. But every step I take is an attempt to avoid it. I think. I am lost. In my own lies. I have told them to myself so often that I have forgotten what the truth was. I write. Not to share my thoughts. Nor do I write to spread my ideas. The objective of my writing is simple. It is meant to preserve a piece of me. Me. That is all my writing serves. The demons they lay asleep again. The masks all tattered and broken. My heart is not shattered glass. Rather my mind is torn apart.