My body may look young, with its smooth skin and cheeks colored like a beautiful shade of light, pastel pink and soft, graceful hands missing from scratches and scars, but not my soul.
An old soul that lives in a young body, just a vessel in which it's trapped.
I feel the nostalgia as a heavy weight on me, it lives in a different time than here, somewhere numb for all the pain and melancholy where it's home.
Every time I feel a piece of myself slipping away, melting together with the infinite night and his mysterious mantle of millions, flickering stars, somewhere far away. Millions of lights- years away from here, hundreds years of life from the human shell.
There in the starry night, the broken pieces of myself float there, all the way back to where it really belongs, wherever it may be;