**Lover's Remorse (Manic)

I sit back and stare from 30,000 feet in the air

I wonder if anyone cares, or if I've got something to share.

Millions of ant-sized people below, I'm really just one of those.

And when I look at my impact I guess that shit really shows.

Who knows?

I imagine my body melting and seeping out the plane window

Creeping like it's in limbo or leaping like into pillows.

I'm weeping like I'm a willow.

Would the fall be fast til I came splashing into ground

Would descent be graceful til it all came crashing down?

Would anybody notice, is anyone around?

Am I just another spill in a lonely ghost town?

Already killed myself once and a critical part of me drowned

Resuscitated, years later, I finally came back around.

Emotions have returned and walls are caving in.

I'm just not quite sure that I'm ready to die again.

The pen isn't a remedy, it's just expression from within.

Getting rid of emotions emptied out my life.

It also really numbed the strife of a hopeless and copeless type

Of suffering. A card deck reshuffling, opportunity for recovery.

But then you've gotta ask yourself, you're doing it at what cost?

For me it was love lost and for me it was truth tossed.

So now as I stew, with all of the same emotions

With a small bag of peanuts and 3.4 ounces of lotion

I've gotta decide if it's worth dying once more,

Enduring the same horror and taking another tour.

The alternative feels like it's gotta be to end it all

To make the call, actually do the fantasy fall.

And I know that's a toxic and awful thing to say,

but I feel this way every day and as my mind decays

I'm physically chipping away, so who knows?

So maybe just one more phase of emotionless robot days.

This time I'll set myself ablaze and I'll see the world a haze.

Until maybe something happens and I fall in love with someone new.

And this time maybe by Year Two, I'll be a man renewed

Who's ready to love her too.

I look down at the earth below, and see the plants and trees

That were all just once seeds, which were all once something previous

Evolution so mischievous.

And that is when it clicked for me, the galaxy's majestic history

That told me this was meant to be and prescripted for centuries.

Everything around us is the debris of what once was a massive star.

It collapsed under relentless pressure with ash spread out afar.

What remains from that death is a microscopic speck with all the same weight condensed,

An experience intense with the magic yet to commence.

Base elements of the universe spread from this explosion, a cataclysmic erosion

A beautifully crafted potion for a universe recklessly woven.

The first death breathes life, but it's also a set-up for something critical.

It's pivotal, but only if you want a universe livable.

Beauty and the rest, that's what you get from a second death.

A kilonova explosion that gives purpose to breath.

So if when stars die twice they spew out elements like gold,

Wouldn't the lesson being told be that I've got another hand to fold?

Is it time to die a second time and watch my life change

Or are these words deranged, will the outcome just be the same?

Will I still wrestle with shame, will I hate what I became?

So as I fly in the sky, nibbling on my snack,

Wishing I had her back and that life was still intact,

Contemplating a death of two very different kinds,

I get lost in my mind, thought is the bane of mankind,

And as I lose track of the time,

I think back to how I got here.

Losing my emotions didn't do much to stop fear.

It stopped tears for a few years,

But what good did that do?

I forgot how to love too and to be true.

So maybe I'm not a massive star whose death brings life to planets,

And maybe I won't write Hamlet or get my name etched in granite.

But if there's a third way forward, I certainly don't see it.

I don't know how to be it, I know I can't guarantee it.

I wish I could go back and fix all the mistakes I made.

Instead a vodka lemonade while I play with this here hand grenade.

I swear that I'd take any trade to go back.

But life is more complex and actions have their effects,

And I can't blame her at all for moving onto the next.

So I sit here still perplexed with my options laid out before me.

How do I restore me?

Pilot chimed in, said "Buckle up, it's storming."

I said I know, she used to adore me.

I dreamt the plane got struck and came tumbling out of the sky.

A decision got made and it didn't have to be mine, it was nature giving a sign

On how I was supposed to die. But then I opened my eyes

And I jolted at the abrupt sound as the plane wheels touched ground.

I guess we came gently down.

I get off the plane, still feeling lost as ever.

It's nighttime now and clear skies mark perfect weather.

I look up and see stars that are alive and brightly shining.

I try to smile lightly, as if everything is aligning.

But guilt reminds me of what remains behind me,

And embarrassment's why I don't like to share my writing.

Shame's a bottle full of lightning and I've been struck.

And now I'm stuck, but I wish myself good luck.

And I start walking home, wherever that may be.