Lost

Lost are these days among men,
Among men who are mice,
Lost are the days filled with rays of innocence and grandeur.
Flippancy has devoured the soul, life has become a job.
Where are the adventures, the enjoyment?
Instead find joy in solitude and darkened caves, its exhausting.
Escaping oneself is impossible. Where is the depth in people?
Shallow empty husks of humanity is all that's left. Alone.
Alone is this place and these thoughts.
Alone is this slipping grasp of reality, is this what life is suppose to be?
Why emptiness? Why not sadness or anger? A husk am I?
Developed from distrust and resentment and questioning of the decisions I've made in the past.
Haunting visions of the past fill me up, yet I'm still empty. Who is this person, who are you?
I don't want to be alone yet I push people away.