Melancholic dreaming of lost chances-

All my feeble hopes;

Deprived of the life inside my bones,

Mist in the mind I’ve murdered cold.

Monotony:

It kills my soul.

This sense of loss is painfully whole.

This state I can no longer keep,

God bless this with eternal sleep.

Note: Please do not assume from this poem that I am religious, for I am not; I simple believed the last line to be fitting.