Life sits heavy, a dull, gray tide,

No thrill, no spark, no place to hide.

I chase the sun, but it slips away,

The same dead sky, another day.

They call me a workaholic—fine.

If I stop, my thoughts unwind.

Back to the dark, a place I know,

Where memories fester, refuse to go.

My past, a maze of toxic flames,

Parents screaming, casting blame.

My mind's a wreck, a fractured art,

Bleeding wounds that became my heart.

Her kisses now, they spark no fire,

The money fails to lift me higher.

Surrounded by ghosts, their laughter fades,

Life's parade of endless charades.

I've cried rivers, but now I'm dry,

Eyes too tired to even try.

Wisdom's chains, they weigh me down,

Understanding's gift—a heavy crown.

I've tried the drugs; they dull the sting,

But rob me of the voice I bring.

A fleeting peace, then back again,

To the same cruel questions, the same pain.

*What's the point? Why does it ache?

Is life a gift or some cruel mistake?*

I've thought of children, wealth, and vows,

But nothing fills the empty now.

Perhaps we're pawns, a game of gods,

Lost in their laughter, their cruel façade.

Or maybe I'm nothing, a fleeting breath,

A soul awaiting quiet death.

But if that's the truth, then why this ache?

Why this longing for a path to take?

Every heartbeat feels like a curse,

Each step forward only makes it worse.

I see no meaning, no grand design,

Just hollow days and fractured time.

*What if life's a cruel, empty jest,

A cosmic trick, no final rest?*

My love for her—a fading glow,

A fragile flame the winds still blow.

She says my name, but it feels so far,

A distant echo, a dying star.

And when I look into her eyes,

I see the lies that love denies.

Her touch once sacred, now feels cold,

A gilded dream that's long grown old.

The world spins on, and I just stare,

At fleeting joys and wasted care.

The nights grow long; the silence screams,

I drown in thought, I choke on dreams.

I am a prisoner of my mind,

Trapped by truths I dare not find.

I've tasted hope; it turned to ash,

Watched every promise break and crash.

*Perhaps the joke's on all of us,

This dance of love, this empty trust.

We claw, we fight, we beg, we plead,

But still, we starve on what we need.*

And if this is it—just pain and strife,

Why did I even crave this life?

*What's the point of chasing light,

If every dawn still births the night?*

Maybe love is just a lie,

A fleeting high before we die.

And happiness, a cruel disguise,

That blinds the heart before it cries.

So here I stand, a hollow shell,

A living ghost in a private hell.

I scream to the gods, but they don't reply,

Just let me crumble, let me die.

But even in this broken state,

I wonder if it's not too late.

Is there something I can't see,

Or is this void all that's left for me?

If nothing changes, let me fade,

A shadow lost in the choices made.

For life's a game I've long since lost,

And now I know—at what cost?