Murderous Giver

The air is calm and I’m alone
In solitude or crowd
I cannot speak
They do not care
My thoughts are far too loud
No audience to listen now
There never truly was
They don’t appreciate the giver
Once the taking’s done
And I would take
If I knew how,
But recoil at the thought
Vampires of life
They are
Not wrong
But I am not
And cannot take the thing I seek
I’ve never found a source
But if I did
I would not speak
I know the art
To bleed
Not leech
Though death may be my course
But what the matter may be now
It would not signify
I do not know the plant I sow
Though harvest may draw nigh
I will not reap the planted seed
It is not mine on which to feed
The nature of the need I have
Can never be fulfilled
The heartbeat
Its erratic haste
Can never be quite stilled
And deep the mourning black I wear
For hopes I never fostered
Against the lonely years ahead
My fortress I have bolstered
The dead communion
Never sought
Because I could not find it
I wondered where to search
But caught
The child of hope
And killed it
Now unrepenting
At the start
I am alone as ever
The chord twixt heart and mind and soul
A pain too strong to sever