Don't leave me behind––
They ask for too much,
forever wanting,
Wanting me
to satisfy them in their infinitely individual ways,
to pride myself on their satisfaction,
ingesting their fears,
washing away their despair
I see their countenance every day,
dissatisfaction every hour,
disregard every minute.
It's true.
I can't satisfy them.
In the end, they don't care about me
Why do they so hunger
for eighteen?
What can she do
that I can't?
What is she to them?
Another opportunity?
Another chance to
––what––
fail again?
What is eighteen––
but an artificiality
constructed by the past
disgraced by the future
––What––
Can she
satisfy them?
Can anything––
but their illusions?
––illusive––
––elusive––
When I was with them, they did everything
––to help me––
everything
––to help themselves––
but it's too late, they've given up
––on me––
––on themselves––
They can't satisfy themselves.
Once I lie dying in the dust
they might reach for––
nonexistent freedom,
false hope,
blind conviction,
But they're them.
They couldn't
and they won't.
They could never,
and they will never
Not without me. So––
Don't leave me behind––
Not like the other two millennia.
Not like sixteen.
Don't leave me behind––
