Bound in my own moments of endless lone
Sometimes it encompasses the universe
Empty and void, as the soul grows each day
Nothing seems to belong, nor do I
Curdling is this sense of being
Every day just another means to an end
Oh! but havent you heard of hope? i ask me
Forlorn is the easiest word for such
"Much of this is your own doing!" I say to me
Yet another pointless introspection
Often these exchanges bring forth woe
Who then is to blame? Ah! Going another bout
"None", I yell to pacify my fading sanity
Somedays are wrought in absolute numbness
Even at the off chance of my lover's crossing
Love had brought me hope, yet I fear
For it has drenched me in its apathy and mire
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