Weapons of intellect

Definitely, maybe,
I am sure, I don't know,
Don't bother, accept me,
I am full, I am still hollow.
Decisions, corrections
With muddy precision
Of stale affections
Despise and ignore me
But I'm aunaffected.
Lost in confusion
With major contusion to my intellect
The world and its drama I somewhat neglect.
Its spittle and glory,
The coldness of stares
Filledwith fake worries
And self-adulation
That such would entail.
I'm grasping for rails
Then slip and fall down
In a shaky embrace of ignorant crowd.
I feel desecrated but still I am proud,
Bent and exhausted, the pain roaring loud.
A tear snakes its way down, painting wrinkles
On a face with eyes shut. Love, bring us
To the end of this exhile!
We tried for a while
But now its done.
Like a firing gun
The ammo depleted, feelings are spent
The life at its ending I'll always regret.