A caged bird, 
Living in the prison of his own incapabilities, 
Incapabilities of emoting and reflecting, 
Emoting and reflecting on beings and things alike, 
Beings and things that once stirred him, 
Stirred him to the ends of the earth, making him full, 
But he’s had his fill, and it’s all seeped out, 
Seeped out like the sands in a hour glass, 
An hour glass with a tinny funnel, 
A tinny funnel refusing the passage of what he holds dear,
For what he holds dear, no longer is present, 
And what is present, is the absence of emotion and thought.

Emotion and thought, that once moved his soul, 
His soul so vibrant and benevolent, 
The vibrancy and benevolence is now a distant spark, 
A spark replaced by the wildfire of starkness and nescience, 
Intentional nescience to the ongoings of the microscopic, 
The microscopic world around him, that calls for him, 
For he once did care, 
But his care, vanished, like his ability to perceive, 
Perceive things and thoughts and talks and objects of importance, 
Miniscule importance compared to the cosmic obligation,
The cosmic obligation that bore him down and encumbered him with an astronomical burden, 
Astronomical burden of the highest ambiguity,
The ambiguity that leeched on his happiness and sadness, 
And curiousity and disdain, 
And any other emotion he could conjure, 
Turning him into a being of banality,

And apathy.

He wanted to feel, 
Feel the tingle under his skin when his love walked across,
When his love kissed him with those lovely red lips, 
Those red lips shall always be a reminder, 
A reminder of a time when he wasn't a stark creature, 
A stark creature stuck in the arctic circles of nothing but the cold, 
The cold so cold, that it turned him numb, 
Numb enough to freeze his heart and soul, 
His heart and soul, that, underneath the frost, still yearns, 
Yearns for a warm embrace, 
A warm embrace from the touch of her skin, 
And tips of her hair, 
And watchful gaze for her eyes, 
And ticklish frontiers of her fingertips, 
And fast-beating hearts, 
Beating as fast as war drums charging down a battle, 
A battle for shared emotions and lust and passion, 
For it is not victory they seeked, 
But rather just each other.

He wanted to feel, 
Feel the sadness of departure, 
Departure that would trigger a rainfall of tears, 
Tears that would prove his humanity, 
Humanity that had crippled itself into insecurity, 
Insecurity of being absent and being replaced, 
Replaced in a human body by an unmoving robotic soul, 
A robotic soul that remains indifferent, 
Indifferent to actions and reactions, 
Actions and reactions of the world, 
A world he doesn't want to give up on, 
But has.

He wanted to feel, 
Feel the mirth of youth, 
Youth that had deserted him at the dawn of reality, 
Reality that disguised itself as Eden, 
But rather unmasked itself as snake that maliciously occupied it. 
A snake that would tangle itself around him and his mind, 
Suffocating his ability to empathise, emote,
And filling his lungs with grayish nothingness, 
Turning his body into an entity of unresponsiveness

And apathy.

Apathy is and has always been an all consuming emotion, 
And just like that, 
He was consumed.

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