An Original Thought

With sadness and disdain I admit what my current life's goal is.
To become empty, heartless and soulless.
What does that say however about my basic existence and condition?
What does it speak about the state that my heart and mind are in?
Issues past and present sit rotting;
Eating everything positive I'm capable of starting.
Who then owns the face that you see?
The facade, the false, representing and present for every impurity?
Dredging up issues, problems, emotions, should have been long since laid to rest,
A fucked up individual, life; a blackened mess.
Face of the faceless, thoughts of the thoughtless, a heart for the heartless
and a soul for the soulless.
Who then do you know?
A phantom, a specter, a ghost.
The sometimes smiling face presented to most.
To whom the mask belongs, a skin he does not possess.
Crawling off his own back, a quivering jumble.
The man who used to be inside, broken and humbled.
The true face of sickness most will never know,
Silent tears streaming at thoughts and actions past done.
Looking for comfort and solace, of which there are none.
Questions burn my mind, as the faceless turns to look inside.
Not knowing what the phantom may find.
Do the soulless yearn for whats lost? Do the heartless lament for feelings past?
Do the thoughtless have tormented thoughts? Does the faceless see what hes become?
Yes.
The answer is painfully clear,
What kind of wretched creature is sitting here.
Someone fucked up and ruined, having dealt himself a poor hand.
A creature in place of a once normal man.
Ugly and foul, tortured and tormented.
By myself, previous actions rethought, revisited and lamented.