Doubt, fear, hollow remorse.
Afraid that nature has went off course.
Unable to locate the primary source.
Of where my feelings brood.
I blame the others for lack of concern.
My passion and dreams just crackle and burn.
Their intimacy and trust I'll never earn.
For I'm simply just some dude.
To appeal to none, to exist in space.
The deafening echo from the look on their face.
A puppet for amusement, if that's the case.
Then time for a change of attitude.
If I'm alone, it's honestly fine.
Because it's nobody's fault but mine.
Wondering why is crossing the line.
And I wouldn't want to be rude.
If I care too much, then so it be.
I'll learn to exist solely for me.
But until my tense can change to we.
My life is one big interlude.