Ya’aburnee (Or words that are untranslatable to english)

I felt toska in her absence;
Bitter about how ones
god could leave them so
sure and then eradicate  
all hope and ignore all
the outcomes, like a mirage
in the sky ignoring everything
i say, then to make
me stand in my own
presence.
i cant stand on the
summit of myself
and watch the tide
of resentments own reflections
crush against my sternum
in some dreamlike birds eye view
while not expecting that feeling
of L’appel du vide to take over.
I'm nearly twenty and i feel like this is it.
The drunken void that becomes the finer
points of my nights speaks all too well
about me but
we're not getting younger,
"Torschlusspanik"
as they say, and it's discouraging
to think that this is all i am now,
and that makes me litost a little.
but i'll sit here,
Saudade.