A Choking Vine

I lost again, so it seems

Failure laying there and it gleams

No applause for my attempts before

Just nods of strangers galore 

Does my writing have meaning, not to you

I hardly want praise or maybe I want a few

Does my writing stand out, guess not

To you I thought it meant a lot

I am growing weary of being in second place

To love to to much; to love to little I always lose the race

Another wound, another dollar, another day

The edges of my heart are beginning to fray

He said, "why put a new address on the same old loneliness"

Because once again I fell for the same old phoniness

Jumble words spill out like wine

A cup choked but the vine

It twist and turns until there's nothing left

It comes through the window like a theft

It steals the love that you once grew

It leaves an emptiness you never knew

Finding it hard to imagine or does it hit your very core

No matter how many bandages you take, there will always be a sore 

Now talking is just a waste of breath

And living is just a waste of death