Powerless in paralysis

No goods or gods
I am sworn to
idols to die or to be born
in concept for me they are all the same
power, money or fame
nobody owes me one.
It probably it is just a ruse
my head keeps convincing me about nuance
that was there but I didn’t see.
I shouldn’t write about us,
about heartbreak and the possibility
of us ending up in the same grave together.
During calm and busy nights
I lie to myself and threaten me.
I do this to protect you.
With your best interest at heart
I pull out my scythe and cut out the part that is busy longing for you.
You are not too good; I am just no right for you
And prayers were simply never enough
To cure me off my character
my being.
I am exhausted
of lying to myself all the time about bringing a change to myself.
When the argument to the contrary
is valid and simple to state
if you really think you can change me
you are better off
on your own accord.
I would only try to convince you to stay.