What is this place That leaves me with nothing To say; no way Of being with others in true self Immaturity leaves me With no one's trust And no way to deal With knowing so much and so little Imminence to my whole Is seperate from my self Great issues versus Great loneliness Numbness forms Pain; to explain Shows no gain Only streets with stone lain To callous my bare feet That even those dearest ridicule; Their echoes push me away Yet still they do not cease I am exhausted, yet fated to exist Longer still now Too young to be old Too old to be young Who can love the Limbo Detached, so unkind In its eye, so blind That sees, undefined, Too much and too little With which to identify... To tame the monster One must first tame oneself In doing so, realize No monster exists.