What's the point?

                                                                                                                                                                 The point of it all?

Whispers of a derailing mind.
Thoughts can no longer be trusted.
Actions no longer justified.

Quiet sobs and burning eyes.
Body crashed on the floor...
but the soul is racing high.

Looking from side to side,
wary of people, wary of being seen alive.

Because I have died.
Died a while ago, I know.

It happened when giving up was all that was left for me.
slowly breathing out the remnants,
slowly escaping the memories.

They are trying to bring me back to life.

Through prayers and faith on machines,

But I won't put up a fight.

                                                                       Because what's the point?