Maybe I cry wolf so much that everyone once there runs away.
No support, few well wishes, and frequent insults which all say:
I can’t win. I’ll never look back on my life and think I ever
made her happy or made him glad, or made any difference for a better.

Wipe the condensation from the surface of these eyes.
Bring me joy in absolving everything that I despise.
Relieve me of the burns scorched into me from without.
Give me solace of a clue to relinquish this persisting doubt.
Pick at me and realize what seemed like flesh oddly chips off
a core of solid turmoil, dismal words and a tired cause.
Shatter me and bring the end of everything for which I stood
amidst a haze I spread through every heart and mind I ever could.

Sickness pulsing through me, feel the cold behind my face.
Empty, a non-issue, moot existence, a disgrace...
An ice-carved sculpture of a person, a figure from some other past
I once forgot, memories I thought I'd never have to sort again.