Tearing a Poem In Two

The forgotten one, the lonely one fate has raised a knife against me The broken one, the chosen one I've been chosen to take part in the stars masquerade to indulge in being a puppet product of a star-crossed love with the seed of my family's enemy; just not an enemy of mine I've often wondered what gave my parents the right to judge love Are they even in love themselves, in happiness or is it a facade, a curtain they hang over me to hide the truth Nevertheless, caring fails me I've seen and kissed love's perfect face danced with the darkness in their eyes but it seems like the world wants to tear us apart Apologies, it's not the world tearing this poem apart only me, the writer, I cannot idolize one last time the viewpoint of Shakespeare's characters They were his to pave the way for death not mine to intervene and keep them immortal Death is an invincible protocol but I felt their love was meant to survive Death...I question if the presence of the reaper is the cause of my shortness of breath reawakened panic disorder or was meant to launch a grenade to dissipate any happiness flowing in like a storm in my direction Whatever the issue, I loathe the feeling tremendously the sick emptiness radiating in the pit of my stomach pain resignating below the ribs a weak, throbbing headache Little things cause my calm seas to transform in typhoons the 'failure', is it what I've become I had hoped to overcome this; guess it's here to stay if there's a remedy for this, let me know I feel distantly combative, hostile, indifferent and I don't know, a reoccurring cycle I don't know