Torpor

My spirit is weak and my mind weeps.
The hopes of this life have become daggers that have pierced my soul.
My wounds I fear are mortal.
My fractured heart has bled out, my veins have collapsed.
My essence is starved, craving the delicacy of life.
I feel the rot and decay of my soul within push toward the surface.
I cannot let this be.
I shall retreat within myself until the sun sets on a better day.
Will I find solace in the depths of my mind?
Shall I be consumed by the rot within?
Can a soul be revived?
Will time show mercy and heal me or cruelty and trap me?
Only Fate knows and she dare not tell.