The Disconnect Poem by Ibn Ali

Silver streaks of dreams untrimmed,
A wasted youth is life unlived,
Snails depart, their traces mark where weathered brows fed thirsty seas,
Do you remember yesterday?
Sad dead eyes could scarcely see,
Past shadows overcast and make the distant lights look dim,
So the journey seems ill-fated,
It's a lonely path,
When the climb's the steepest hill
There's condescension in applause,
A rotten core makes worms of sins,
Nobody's there,
It's the elevation of self above all else,
Nobody cares,
How am I?
Should I peel off the painted smile,
Amplify the echoes
So you hear the emptiness inside,
I'm bereft of empathy,
Some ether would feel sweeter in my chest,
My heart's an open wound,
Some seek to do me harm with salty palms outstretched,
A little pain is overdue,
Sometimes necessary,
To spurn the disconnect,
Joyless souls have graves for homes,
Buried alive in concrete walls,
Amber glows through glass windows in neat little rows,
As we move closer
We grow further apart,
We're still alone,
Footsteps on the ceiling,
Doors close as they depart,
Muffled murmurs,
Feint scents of perfume in the hall,
Parked cars in empty bays make the building feel a little less empty,
And their presence brings comfort to all,
And I lay,
Not sure if I'll awake,
Bide time and I await,
Till I can feel the breath of the morn.