Shivering in the cold,
Rocking back and forth.
Knowing you won't come.

I've gotten used to this;
The darkness in my vision,
The sounds in my head.

The sleepless nights
And existential crises
Are now my friends.

This manic destruction
Is the only comfort
I could ever have.

Really, I get it.
Nobody wants to be here,
Not even you.

And that's okay.
I'll always have myself.