Lost Cause

I’m reaching for hands not there
thrust questioning myself in turn
and with every grasp of air pulled in
the further I’m swallowed down
into a chasm closing in, clinging
desperately at nightmares of light
blinking, but never materializing
simply mocking my mistaken existence
with dreaming ghosts of hope,
loves seen, yet never to be found
as I’m marked apart from the rest,
branded with the most foreign of poisons
where no cures can be found, only worsen,
and they change my inner workings
to where my thoughts think no joy
instead drown in growing defeat
with no graceful fate but to die young
and seeing the world for what it really is…
                                                                Deceitful.