This vessel of emotion is like a sinking ship.
He tries to mend the wound, but the stitches are infinite.
To mask intense sorrow with a hedonistic lifestyle allows the depiction of happiness, through chase.
But, the demons always run rampant through his mind.
He travels thousands of miles to escape this agony, this exhausting beast, and acquire a few moments of rapture among the iron snake.
Once he disembarks he always finds himself walking down that same dark road of sorrow, drowning in his thoughts, antsy to wander.
He walks among the ballast, his head slumped low and catches a glimpse of light shimmering off the ground.
His eyes capture the reflection from the broken shard of mirror, a face of grime with stubbles of hair and bitter frosty blue eyes blink back at him.
Tendrils of filthy blonde hair drape over his shoulders and he realizes, this is me.