Existence

And to him, you're a star

And that seems flattering.

You hear these things, and they sound so sweet--

But a star to him, is a sky to me,

And that doesn't take an astrologist to see.

481 days, yet I'm still astounded--

And a woman never looked so lovely.

At times I feel emotionless;

What separates myself from a sociopath,

Is this half constructed bridge built in your direction.

The cold nights are winning,

The tears pour like sap from a tree.

While I tell this sorrowful story,

And this tragedy lasts a lifetime--

But I wouldn't mind you for an eternity.

So I reach for your hand,

And as you pull away,

The anxiety races through my mind,

For I am lonely.

And as blood pumps through my veins--

You approach,

And suddenly, it is stagnate. 

I cannot breathe.

Not because of anxiety--but change.

So I'll sit in this existential crisis,

And ponder my fate.

A life amongst the hollowmen shall be a relief,

And although I'm in sorrow, this lifetime is brief.

The feelings are empty,

And there is no air to breathe.

And with my respiratory system failing, I whisper out my last statement.

I have failed.