Alone

When I envision my future,

I find myself alone,

For if no one can love me now,

Who could love the shell of myself that I am bound to become?

As my days pass by,

I wither away,

Like a tree losing its purpose,

As there is no one left to provide my oxygen for.

Such an ironic tune,

A man obsessed with the finite aspect of life,

Withering away from his obsession,

As rushing every minute of life,

Led to life losing its purpose.

As trains were invented to be catalysts,

But only increased the expectation of production,

I have done the same with my life,

Putting my expectations higher than achievable.

What a waste of a life,

A frowning old man in sorrow.

I look into a reflection of my future,

But my path has burned beneath me,

And I cannot reverse my actions.

I stare inevitable fate in the eyes,

And all I can see now are tears.