My world was known as a bustling city,
But it was all fiction.
Now we’re here—the present.
It should be gifting. Instead,
It’s stealing all the last pieces of the fantasy.

Lonely I’ve been,
My world dry and dusty.
Dirt always catches you—
It screams ghost town; that’s what it is.

It’s lonely, I can't lie.
Losing the one that made your world lively,
That made your world bright!
He was many in one
But the one doesn't exist —unless it's self
Not a loss —just the truth unveiling itself.
Another sellout dream, because all came with an agenda.

"Better me"—an invitation for the worst.
I see my circle turning to a point—
No circumference, no area.
Just me, with no room to accommodate anyone.