standing here

Once again, I walk into this room alone like the day I was born, blindfolded naked, scared, and unaware of what I will find lurking behind closed doors. Can it be ghosts whores, or the religion hanging on the cross that I lost years ago when I learned not every seed you plant needs to grow

I hear the thunder like a tribal drum saying the storm is near. Why am I still standing here heavy? Is my breath tired? Are my eyes my heartbeat getting quicker? Soon, it will beat out of my chest.

Crickets are chirping in the background. Wet is the ground. For what reason am I  still standing here? It is as if my body is temporarily paralyzed, and I'm in a coma, still able to think.

One last night, one last time, to leave all my aging memories behind why am i still standing here