The Last Shard of Fantasy

How can you try to comfort me,
When you have not heard the word I have ?
Witnessed the scenes I've witnessed,
Endured the pain I have endured.

How can you stand there and tell me,
Your beautiful, short-lived lies?
Lies used to cover your shame,
Lies used to heal your guilt.

How can you want to help,
When your repentance is born in the wrong way?
Born to ease your conscience,
Not for the shattered me you made.

I stand here in my twilight haze,
Yearning for the clear day,
Yet, being dragged into the cryptic night,
Melancholy isn't it?
To lose the last light of day.