Pull

Imprisoned without appeal to release,
A game you played and as this toy did wear,
Polished the stains yet never ironed the crease,
Raw apathy was the curative to every heart's tear,
Still you dance in imagination of a projected reality,
Devoid of consequence or any trace of regret.
All I gave and asking nothing met absolute cruelty,
In the form that I was no different than a leashed pet,
So it is I must remain as the pull never grows dim,
Seeking the slightest essence of what made you desired,
Weaker the resolve to abolish our contorted whims,
A sullen song drifting from a utopian mire,
Soul sickening images a dead prominent future,
Cast away by something that was never there,
Which I blindly ignored casting eyes to the vultures,
Scouring them clean of the dream we once shared,
So it is I am pulled to the abyss,
While my suffering is a state of bliss,
To you that is the best fit.
No catharsis,
No freedom,
Only abandonment,
As a gift.