see this wreck i have become -
isn’t it amusing?
see this mess of failed thinking - watch it succumb;
watch as it writhes, cries for sympathy nobody can find.
just as this mess was born, someday it will be undone
and hope will blossom from a corpse forgotten.

i’m not here,
i’m just letting this dream wander;
tomorrow, these thoughts will be lost to my innocence
and everything will have the shine i remember.
i’m not here.

when the night visits again, the same question repeats:
how can i undo the failings that define me?

this reality, the inevitability cannot be escaped;
not as a game developer beaten by his imagination,
neither as a child who lost the only one who mattered.

i was born ill-fit to survive in a world of social dances,
forced into a place where facades took priority.

these failures are consequences of my personality,
so to undo them would be to resign prematurely.

a walk, so long it seems
and so lonely, a weird feeling.
the lights and water dance together,
something so beautiful but never seen
and they are never lonely.
the fallen leaves washed away, alive yesterday
but forgotten when the sun came -
they looked so lonely.

something is tearing,
something that i can’t see.
i can tell you of the pain,
that living is no certainty
but apparently everyone else feels the same.
they are still here though, aren’t they?

i’m sorry for thinking silly thoughts
but these thoughts won’t be wrenched away.
i’m sorry that i can’t see things clearly,
that i’m an imposition to society.

are these poems drenched in self-pity?
is there a save point, a place to respawn?

alone again
at distraction’s end,
so low, i can’t contend
with this aching within.