Nightmares & Daydreams

I am alive, or so they say.
All hope is gone, not only for today.
There's a breaking point that few have reached.
I have seen it a thousand times.
Is there even a point to my melancholic rhymes?
Should I just destroy every single letter and word?
I know that my whispering voice can't be heard.
But I try and try, and try to make sense of the absurd.
It's a riddle without a question, it's a door without a frame.
It's impossible to differentiate, which creature is to blame.
When all hope is gone, the story can't go on.
I'm out of ink, and now I think a thought and wind up lost.
Out the window, dreams are tossed.
Now I cry, and carry on my misery.
Chivalry is history, and when in doubt it's a mystery to me.
I hide behind irreverent banter, but there's no man behind the curtain.
Of that I'm always certain.
I'm the hunted, not the hunter.
What don't you understand?
This poem serves no justice, I'm a poet like no other.
All the happy ones could never understand.
I don't really know for sure, if I'm a child or a man.
In the back of my mind, there's a child's corpse.
I look into its dark blue eyes, and see my own reflection.
I cannot change my past, I cannot change my future.
I'm lofting in and out of time.
It's awful when you die again, you'd think that life would end.
Life is just beginning, but Death will shortly come back.
Riding on his pale horse, the reaper decides my course.
The fact that always haunts me, is that when I die I'll be replaced.
Every single second after, my screams will be replaced with laughter.
An infant born to die, its birth simply a waste.
This is not my story, just a little taste.