What Am I Turning Into..

My life is garbage
that has been forgotten. It's
rotting rapidly.

The stench that was my
hopes and dreams turns to dust, blows
away with the wind.

Even my writing
suffers the wrath of broken
promises, defeat.

I can pick up the
leftover pieces or toss
them aside again.

Who really cares here?
I've let it get this bad; There's
really nothing left.