in my pit of solitude I built this loneliness with my own two hands .
To ostracize myself is an empty promise, to transform into an inanimate object Is a passing desire in my aching soul , secretly hoping for love .
Love however comes at a price , at the end your reward is bitter , agonising grief .
So I don't wish to be perceived, but rather a rock on the side of the street.
Anything but something to someone .
A project picked up for a while and discarded as such . Tastes of these brief moments of socialisation bring me more loneliness than solitude .
Short empty conversations ringing holo in my ears . Others yearn it , crave the interactions with others filling their hearts making them feel joy . While it leaves me bitter , resenting myself for the lack of social skill . For even if i branched out I'm more of an invasive plant , once spotted plucked and burned .
Loneliness consumes me , I wake up wishing I had not , clawing as my skin as if I'm freeing myself from the shackles that hold me here .
In a room of familiar heads , babbling filling the room with comedy, a unit where all belong.
I sit with them all pretending I'm apart of their team , a part of the game .
Though I watch them play as I sit alone, always waiting my turn . Slowly realising I'm not actually there . my presence removed ,no more than the rock .
A mass taking up space with no intended purpose than to just be , yet I still crave less .
I wait my time until nothingness consumes me and I'm nothing more than a vessel for a fly to lay its eggs , and for its children to eat slowly . Picking what's left of me away .
The flys would be the only one to show me mercy as my flesh decomposes , running over my cold skin as weeks pass . The most touch my skins received in years, I lived and died alone .