Honestly

Saddled, with a name that trifles me,
Burdened, with expectations to fail,
Carrying, a brittle chip on one shoulder,
And stumbling, across the untraveled way.

Fearing, the singular strains of emptiness,
Tormented, by the company I keep,
Missing, the times that have long gone by,
and wondering, whether I am awake.

Whistling, ghostly trains of thought pass,
Unhindered in their fiery path.
A stain, that doesn't fade,
And a lie that has taken over, my life.

Catching, the last frozen rays of hope,
Wrapping, my fingers around that false dream,
Twisting, in me are hope and despair,
And I, hiding away from myself.

Hatred, coming to whisper in my ear,
Telling, me to give up the memory,
Forgetting, that I ever was,
A man, with a name that wasn't meant to be.

The dominion of my confusion fading,
revealing my true, despicable form,
but nay, that is too much to hope,
for being despised, is an honour.

The pretense of power, doesn't last,
The time for lies is past,
And I try to fight myself,
Yet again, an insignificant skirmish.