Alone

I have been unhappy for so long
that I wonder if there's any happiness left  
in the world, for me. When you were sixteen  
and they told you that your life was just beginning,  
that if you ended it now you'd be drawing  
the curtain on a show full of riches, excitement,  
and life, you knew they were lying, of course,  
but probably not meaning to. The stitches  
come undone; the methadone of food,  
TV, a little music here and there, and the illusion  
of companionship is growing dull  
until it is only ineffective. I am here for you, my son,  
said the fictional god, and I listened  
as best as I could for a while.