*It doesn't have a title*

It's in three parts, doesn't have a title, I shaln't limit it with a meaning.

I.
I'm in love with ideals,
Love loves itself.
A shallow gust grazes my soul.
A pendant of longing weighs me down,
I fly.
That beautiful starving child;
Limbless from gluttony.
I skip a beat, and another,
Then sober my high with fears of forever.

II.
The rain refills my tears.
A car drives past, two?
It doesn't matter.
My Id erupts as
Desire freezes over.
"Our Father..." The vicar coughs.
I don't listen, and leave him with his box.
Heaven burns a thought into my heart,
It hurts.

Ants are moving mountains,
While I hide with my disease.
The new-born disgusts me,
Youth has all dried up.

The sun offers life,
While this solemn pastel sky
Is laced with death.

III.
Fly the flags at half-mast,
The sun has set,
The tide is out,
The crane is long gone.
Our balding head turns slightly grey.
"Not I!" We taunt, "I can't die!"
Survival is just a game.
People start asking for your next of kin,
And silently you realise,
You're not going to win.