Alone.

Logic would be appreciated if it helped me figure out a way to be okay,
to survive each tragedy, like acts of terrorism that leave me shaken but unscathed.
I no longer believe in miracles now that hope has let me down.
I had faith once, too, until it showed me that we are all alone,
until the day we die and from the moment we are born.
In theory, all the strategies to stay safe sounded like they could work,
until I tried to practice them and saw that my anger could not be reversed.
Deterred and feeling desperate, I tried to stay hanging on
though my grip was weakening with each new blow that I was dealt.
Reason became unreasonable to me, as fictitious now as fairy tales of mermaids in the sea.
Unable to accept the desert that I woke up and found myself dehydrated in, although I could acknowledge that my aggression was responsible for my loved ones' abandonment.
Unrealistic to assume the casualties of the war I waged against myself
were saints and could repeatedly forgive me for my torment.
I wish that I could just get it right so that love and I
would not always be like two ships passing in the night.