These Days

I don't write enough these days,
There's a lingering reluctance to put pen to paper,
But I guess I'm shot of that now,
There was no reason for it anyway,
I am better than you,
I am,
I am,
I am Sam,
I am a figment of my own imagination,
(And a failing one at that),
I am real,
I am me,
I could be you,
If I were inclined,
You are worthless,
And when did I start (stop) thinking that,
(That you could or would be anything more),
I am just a person,
In this cold dark world,
There is nothing for the taking,
And there is nothing worth having,
If nothing means anything, to you,
A small change for a big difference,
And you,
And you,
And you,
(I would be rather be blind, deaf and dumb),
You are oblivious to the simplest things,
And you... walk along broken glass,
Breaking glass,
Revelations and revolutions,
Not enough of a change to make the real difference,
Not enough to break you,
I want to break you,
I want to be broken beyond repair,
I want to not want all this,
All these things that twist and burn in my mind,
I want to break,
I want to destroy,
I want to kill slowly,
That aching death that won't hit until I tell it to,
I want to be real.