Abiotic - Devoid of Life

I sit
I listen
I wait

The soft, delicate rays of life
Gently beat their feet
Warming my raw cheeks
But its power is weak

What am I waiting for?

A spark
A rustle
A beat

Yet still no life comes form the
Torn tendons of desire that
Lay dormant at the very epicentre of my soul

A shudder, a brief awakening would
Bring some hope

Nothing: reality cruelly consumes the young