Without a Soul

In this constant state of sorrow,
my heart doth wallow.
Alone,
Afraid,
of things that will never be.
Teaming,
are these feelings that wish to be free.

Destined to be alone forever and always.
Just a pitiful melancholy being,
searching for a  soul,
a spirit,
that use to be,
my true self,
but I find nothing,
and have to live out a lie,
For the rest of my life.

Not knowing who stares back,
when I peer into a mirror.
Memories that almost seem stolen,
out of place,
in the opaque and mysterious corners,
inside the labyrinth that is my mind.