The bubble pops

Like a bubble that dies with a pop .
So in you die the last vestiges of hope .
It never serves you well to dream ,
Of the realms that weren't meant to be yours,
Of a life that you'll never get to live .
Believe me when I say this , do believe .

As the helplessness washes over you
And with numbed out eyes you gaze at that sky with blue hue .
Your insides feel as if they have been beaten black and blue ,
Bearing all what fate at you threw .
What fate doled out to you to stuff in your stash,
Was fit only to be thrown in trash .

You can go on a spade,
And a goodbye to everyone you can bade.
For the path your life would had long before been laid.
Before your birth your death certificate had been made .
Let that path lead you to the cliff ,
And then you can go down in a whiff .