Momento Mori

The sky parts no longer for the dreams I once sent it.
For I've sold myself as a militant puppet, to be beckoned and called solely for the whims of others at a moment's notice.
In exchange for my indentured servitude, I'm alloted a means to accomplish my ends, but my life is not mine and these goals are mere remnants of a boy long since dead.
A walking shell fulfilling meaningless duties and supporting those to whom it is not recognized; I watch as it moves on, slowly decaying but unaware of it's unnatural condition.
It and I are the same, yet dissociated by titles and positions; even myself is no longer myself.
The thoughts pang of sorrow, but even feelings become distorted and instead instill despair.
Even my memory begins to lapse, and I wonder if I ever was, and ever will be again, or ever shall..
Hope for some sort of future bleeds into view, but these eyes that have served me so well see clear through it, and show me that which was once my dream, has perished beneath the wisping desert sand.
Again it is sorrow I attempt to feel at the loss of what I had hoped to be, that side of me has long since been dormant, but oblivion instead is the only entourage I seem to welcome.
Not even darkness, just a vain abyss.
Words are all I command now; they are what one might call a saving grace, but they are powerless unless spoken by one who gives them meaning.

The dusk and dawn share the tide, because no one ever really loved them.