Crammed

In the dark of the night, there are still some things that dare to tear the gloom apart, the stars. They make the sky look bearable. Especially when you are already in the midst of trying to find a way out of the gloom inside your own life. You tend to think of them as your tiny guides along the dark mess you find yourself in, quite often.

Like the stars I have innumerable thoughts brimming inside my head. Well, the only ones that have aged inside are about my own self. It is realisation of our weaknesses that becomes our biggest strength against anything, but when it turns into acceptance it eats us from within. I'm slowly turning hollow.

The only shining light that guides us through is the one that remains inside, unwavering, never extinguishing, for it has earned its fuel from our soul, but what if the soul dies?

Am I a living corpse?