The Paragon of despair

I was a child,
In search of love, it made me blind.
I carried in my hands despair like a toy.
Wasn't it my first time on Earth? I was also a boy.
Now I'm older, and it still feels beyond repair.
You were all like cactus—when hugged, I bled.
So I tried to run, and so I fled.
I speak only pessimistic thoughts,
Because I've run from it all, and it started to feel like I lost.
And so I remember I once went to you,
Showed you my hands covered in despair.
But it was for nothing; you looked away as if unaware.

How many times do you have to burn me,
Before you realize I'm nothing but ashes?

When I got older, I had no one to give me a shoulder.
I could not look people in the eye,
Afraid they would see the hollow inside.
Many asked what goes on in your head—
A quiet war that I couldn't flee.
I want to leave, so far away
From these noises, where no one asks if I'm okay.
Plunged in abject misery,
I don't carry it as resentment,
But we're past the stages where one can make amendments.

So how many times, before you realize I'm just ashes,
While my whole world restarts and crashes?
How it's been years of yearning for paradise,
But why did it have to leave me paralyzed?
I watched everything fall apart.
I used to quiver—life's a beautiful, false, broken shard.
I was a kid back then. Now I'm older—
Frail and fragile. I grew so much, yet the world feels colder.
How young I was when I took despair in my hands,
Kept it deep inside my heart like an unheard lullaby.
Now time so quickly flashes by.
People I knew grew older, yet they never realized—
I was a child,
In search of love, found despair.