Misery breaks for apathy,
As dwindling strings fray to nothing.
I sit, motionless, encouraging atrophy,
The desire o'ergrowing for an ending.
Twenty three long years amount to nought,
A botched birthing the height of success,
Even to the eye of astronomers who sought
To catalogue ev'ry star despite any duress
Have long since stopped scouring the sky;
My light was fading too long ago.
Opportunity is there, albeit twice shy,
But there's simply no interest to follow.
My life has been one of selfishness, sin,
Now isolation comes baring its toll.
That lifeforce that balanced on a rusted pin
Has resigned itself to topple and fall.
It's a lot of words to say one thing,
Empty drivel of a life unlived through,
But to shout the truth till I hear angels sing?
That's the one act I simply could never do.
60
A little early