A Sinking Feeling

A poem about a fantasy collapsing.

Oh, the stab of pain I feel upon posing the question...

Was any of this truly ever destined?

Or was it all in my head?
A fantasy to make me feel alive, when after all I was really dead

Why do I feel such pain now?
I should have expected that this would be how

The events would unfold

But my heart created hope, which my conscious now does scold

Perhaps there is a still a chance

A shot for one last dance

Maybe I'm scaring too easy

Expecting a storm when the day's only breezy

Maybe it's just the aftereffects, psychological

Of my prolonged loneliness and self-proclaimed ugliness, biological

Or maybe I'm wrong, and all of this is right

And I am meant to sleep alone at night...

Author's Note

Can anyone relate?