A lost soul.

A weary present looking back relentlessly,
a path that it traveled handicapped,
and now they call it a messed up past,
but the title cannot disguise the agony.

Feelings are not slaves of time,
Although people at times are conquered,
as countless emotions are killed by a feeble human mind,
expressions altered fail to decipher.

Sensation of that gentle touch,
dies the next moment,
a desire consequently born,
a scar waiting to be erased.

With every wish that signifies,
a feeling of meaningless sighs,
lost forever never to return,
a dream that never dies.