Everyone sits at the table with smiling faces.
Everyone, except for me.
I am alone, shrouded in darkness.
He let go, he didn't love me.
He brushed me aside as he would a september leaf.
So I sit here, all alone,
Waiting for someone to fill up my heart again.
Now, no one notices me, thinks of me.
Like I don't exist.
Everyone is cheering, eating, and laughing.
My plate is empty, my glass is gone.
Who took it I wonder?
Was it the perverted, idiotic, french bastard?
Or my innocent, ignorant, brother?
I am distracted from my loneliness.
Because of my runaway glass.
Then I am reminded of him.
He disappeared like that glass.
Or maybe it was plastic?
Oh, well.
I'll never understand the world for allowing me to exist.
This harsh cruel world.
I look over at the others, they are all staring at something.
A girl is standing on the table.
In her hand she holds something small.
My, glass.
She is drinking from it with that hand.
And with the other, she is pointing.
At. Me.
Will I be pulled out of the darkness?
