Patterns

We are our own conflicting truths,
devolving into illusions.
In a universe of debilitating
desires and needs.

There is shame in owning.
Seeking fulfillment to different ends.
Uses - sometimes the nature of abuses!

There is no healthy cause,
Nor disassociation nor friendship,
Nor hope.
Hope - the worst of all.

You gave me the final card.
Could I not play at all?
To bite the bullet of guilt,
Or weather a storm of pain.
And yet all you ask for is love.
And all I ask is -
Does it ever mean anything.