Anothe Death Cup

You are a rocket and you are a star. What am I? Is it ok to stand here? My gaze is sliding through a cookie jar. That's how I deal with it. Two palak paneer! And please don't you pity me! Don't you dare! I'll find myself, love as soon as time comes. I'll work really hard again to glare But as of now I will finish off the crumbs. Indulging you is not to be replaced. But I continue to stroll the flea market, In every other face I see your face. A street sign, old lace and a Persian carpet. I look at variety of objects. But none of them ignite me. What is the use? How are you when I suffer with nonsense? I would have to squeeze the pain out with abuse. It doesn't work, why I don't remember? I tried it once, I tried it twice. Yet no luck - Still recall the heartbreak of September. But how do others do it? They make the buck? Or exercise like crazy? Meet with friends? They talk, they write their silly testimonies? They shop like hell and yet try to pretend That it's ok. Who needs that ceremony? Or do they cry at night alone? Or weep? In a shrink's office? Temporary measure. They settle down for something less too steep And over time discover hidden treasure. Instead it's only me who crawls back up In fear, agony, depression and a mess. Rest some just to find another death cup Protesting "People, do not subside to less!" It's just not at all that yum and worth it. Wouldn't it better to wise up and reverse The proposition. Reconsider it! I'll grieve, replenish and generate a verse.