Waiting

Waiting for existence surely far,

Empty words fill the atmosphere.

Living leaves a deceptive scar.

I’m not as alive as I appear.

Grasping what isn’t mine,

The scathing envy of innocent joy.

You keep saying I’ll be fine,

Though the end’s just a shiny decoy.

But far more often, I wish not to wake.

I’m unable to fill the void.

I know that this soul will break,

But I can’t be destroyed.

     So for now, as my entirety ceases,

     I ask only that you still love my pieces.