Whispers in the Shadows

I don't know why I even bother most days. Why do I do it? Stay when I could so easily purchase an Amtrak train ticket and go into the sunset, ne'er to return? Is it the job? The vain, frozen hope that someday what few people I even dared to call "friend" will one day return to me and it'll be as if they never even left? The stupid Social Security funds? My piss poor excuse for a family? I just don't get it, really. I long to leave and etch from the dust and debris of this world of shadow and light something in which I can find peace, acceptance, love, respect and kind, caring friends and, maybe, even a girlfriend. But yet I remain here in this wasteland of hatred and malice and cold, frozen hearts and closed minds. My crimson tears drip to the floor every night now and I so long to put them back into their heart shaped glass box, lock it up real tight, throw away the key and never once ever let them out for even a moment's rest, but for whatever reason that I have yet to determine, I can't seem to do that. So out they come. More and more and more every night. I don't feel lonely per se, but I do feel empty as if I am just a walking, breathing, consuming shell for other peoples' amusement. Someday, somehow, someway, I'll get out. I know I will. But then again, I've also always known I'll die alone, forgotten and cold. Has that time finally, after so many years of scraping around in the dirt, come to me at last? The toys in the attic no longer hold my interest and the dust is getting thick. The cobwebs are spreading and the shadows are lengthening as the sun, in all its faded, melancholy glory slips back behind the silvery curtain of the rain clouds to cry alone for the death of her Icarus and the tears don't even reach the hearts and souls of those below her, save perhaps for me and a very few others. I've a tear each for those that do not cry or cannot and to them I shall give them their tear, saddened though I mayst be, at the loss of their wonder of the world around them, at least for the briefest nanosecond I can put a thin, if cold, smile on their face one last time before I, too, must away ere the breaking the of dawning of the end of age where the courage and heart of humans have failed and broken and cold, frozen darkness has swallowed everything.