Was this his fate?

Does your god make mistakes?

A splatter of cosmic ash orbiting naive minds

of worshipers. 

But what a god he was,

For no reason other than: simply because. 

These were the razors that screamed through Charlie's brain,

Struggling to see headlights below, in his eyes' own rain

Tender face raw from New York's icy breath, it crumpled, like

fallen sheets, in the streets. 

Didnt reach for the umbrella, 

What was the point if he could never tell her?

Never hold her, never have his heart complete

Your god forgot him, the outcast, they could never ever meet,

Because she was never created, his loneliness filled with him with hatred. 

He tore a ragged sigh,

A strange comfort in our will to die. 

Charlie fell. 

Twisted and turned in a deafening silence that

he had known too well - an isolated hell. 

As he collided with gravity, it was comfortably numb

The sidewalk revolving like lava as the sensation rose. 

But before his lights flickered closed

with the pain of each shattered bone,

In the corner of his eye, Charlie saw her:

The girl he should have known.