No one is there

Why do I always get the short end of the stick.
Nothing is ever my pick.
I look around and all I see
is everyone being happier than me.
I see them smile, I see them grin,
playing and dancing, spreading sin.
I look away to the other side
and by the same rules as the others they too abide.
And I'm left alone, in the middle of it all
with no room to move, only fall.
Try as I may, try as I might,
I am constantly losing my will to fight.
With people all around me drenched in sin,
with their sex and their raves, my patience runs thin.
Would I be better off if I did the same,
if I went against my own rules, could I lose blame.
If I did as they all do,
would I be better off, would I make it through.
As I sit alone
with an unplugged phone,
and no will to care anymore,
drifting away from the social shore,
watching the land fade away,
as does the rest of the day.
All by myself with no one else with me,
no one around that I can see.
Wishing there was someone there
that would take and bear
to be with someone like I,
who when they see me breathes a great sigh,
and shows happiness in their eyes.
That would be a surprise,
because it they couldn't exist,
because I've already endured everyone's fist,
and never once have I found
someone like that around.
And now I sit all alone under a tree
of grief and misery,
and pay my dues to the man whom I
thought would see eye to eye.
But he's not there.
There's only and empty chair.
So I'll just sit here and die,
under the darkened sky,
and wait for they who do not exist,
and continue to endure the world's cruelest fist.