The Final Chapter Of An Eposodic Demise Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

My heart starts breaking when she walks in the room.
It's broken by the time she's gone.
I've tried to do everything she wanted to do,
Even though I thought it to be wrong.
I'll never be the guy that she would want,
And its high time she realized that.
I should have listened to Brand New.
Perhaps that would have saved me from me,
God surely didn't.
Come conclusion I know the blame still falls on me.
No claims of seduction will suffice for pardon in hell.
I've snapped off and distanced myself for the one moment I thought I knew myself too well.
So here stands regret holding hands with remorse leaping from the high summit of faith to the depth of failure, washing up on the shores of dysphoria.
Marred like an unfinished painting to stand among immense standards.
Eclectic memories of former brilliance lost to the sounds of dissonant and present reality.
In accordance with the ideals of the common fool,
I've nothing left to distance me from man.
Less of a misanthrope than a failed successor,
I've scorned my inheritance for the pleasures of vanity and the immediate.
Similar patterns revolve in transitory paths leading too quickly to the termination of inspiration;
And all I've left is time to contemplate my fate through grand discourse leaving me sightless. With one final snap of a lens which envelopes the remnant of my soul,
I smile like the shamed shell of a stain that I've become at my final valediction.