I want to touch the clouds. Fly like a free bird wandering in the sky with it's wings wide open. Feel the breeze cross every fiber of my body. Feel it caressing the soul trapped within this skeleton of void. Not be a slave of the world of compromise. What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of being alive? If there is a even a little part of existence that feels like existing, let the hollow be satiated with empathy for its own self. Find the comfort in the being. Make it rise from its slumber. That, is my wishful thinking.