I use the word existence like I know what it means. I have started to think that I do not. 

At odd hours of night, my serene consciousness begins to question my beliefs, and the flawed framework of my understandings. Ethics and determination govern my decision-taking mechanism. They led me to a path of moral decay. 

Putting on a show comes with a weight of authenticity, and a weight of facade. Trouble begins when the curtain falls and the show ends, but you keep playing. Behind the curtains, voices accompany you. When the air around you is tranquil, in those odd hours, you hear those voices. They used to be noise. Now they are the only voice you recognise. 

In the awning of sound mind and body, you keep hiding the agony. 

In the hopes of fresh air, I abandon the four-walled prison that I once called my home, and go for a walk. Sauntering across the landscape of my kingdom, with everything except my soul in a standstill, I hear the loud roars of my prayers that went unanswered. All of them are words and faiths I put into those who didn't care about me. Maybe I wasn't honest enough while praying to God for them...the prayers didn't go far. And so, they left me. 

Time to solemnly accept my fate.