Self Pity

All the machinations of my monsters exist 
Burdens that number
The things I could list 
Now I just wander 
I'm lost in the mist 
Thinking I'm getting the gist 

Things will get lost 
On a whim with a whisk 
Nothing more empty and painful than this 
The thought of an ending 
Is bringing me bliss 
Yet sadly that's not what I wish

I keep doing things 
Bringing me ruin 
Capturing nothing but always pursuing 
Something inside of me 
Making me weak 
And all of my will in a world without sleep