Yearning to fall in love

Yet fallen into a precipitous pit

of darkness

Study. Eat. Study. Sleep.

REPEAT.

Head lifted

stars twinkling afar

A sliver of hope

Hand reached out

for a glint so near yet remote

In the five long hours

of slumber each night

that glimmering shine dies

as seconds tick by

Submerged in black ink on white

with blood red marks carved

For each slash of red

a brick of anxiety

thuds on a tower

years in the making

Red

The color of prosperity

A connotation of inefficacy

Crooked and calloused fingers from pens

Pain fades to numbness

as reveries fade into oblivion

Many imagine but few dare dream

of venturing the gilded path

in the mirages of sleep

Tied down by numbers

Their ropes slicing the flesh of aspirations

Zero to one hundred

In which digits does fate lie?

A dozen years

in this dismal abyss

Emerging a nomad

with an ungraspable future

a dreary past

One question hangs eternally in the air

Were the endeavors worth it?