That's what I am, or what I feel?
A life wasted on wanting and needing.

Just to feel.

As I sit on the outskirts, never connected, never part.
The joys of others killing straight to my heart.

Was it never meant to be... for you Yes, but never for ME.
Another year by with nothing to show, is it because I reap what I sow?

I am too tired for this, but not ready to sleep, I'm desperate to wake from this broken heap.

Did the wind ******* like this or was it my fault.
I guess it doesn't matter because I no longer hope.

The thought of tomorrow's fresh day fills me with dread, another day to battle those thoughts in my head.