I am but a fly,

and i have no means to atone.

These scars I wear,

show my fear.

All reminders that you're not here.

I think of you,

every now and then.

Wonder what you could have been.

In all reality,

it should have been me.

I wonder if the fates had too much to drink.

Some days I wish not to think.

Its different without you here,

to make fun of me for all I fear.

The absence of your touch,

bruises me too much.

There's not much more,

left for me here.

If only it were death,

and not loneliness,

that I fear.