Pointless

What is the point of a note? Is it for those you’ve left behind?
Is it to justify or validate ones own reasons for ending that which one had no control to begin.
I am not sure.
Maybe the words are for me to finalize the backroom deal of my minds eye.
I may be writing as practice for a wedding ceremony; perfecting steps that ultimately lead to a marriage with eternity.
Like a groom, I am having last minute doubts of the pending commitment, that I intend to carry out.
You see life without hope, optimism, or confidence is a living death indeed.
Dead a long ago, to my body have I done misdeed.
Vacated the premises years ago and in some type of twisted greed,
I held the keys to an empty house, that I never had the deed.
One can see if one looks into my eyes,
An empty house that once was full of life,
Shadows framing where pictures were once hung,
Where lights filled the ceilings darkened edge,
Lay dusty, empty, spider webs
Despair so deep it just swallows up light,
Burdens so heavy it tugs out all your cries.