It's over and that is good.

[Birdcell]

In the stark expanse of existence's void,
Where dreams are dashed, and hopes destroyed,
A truth emerges, cold and clear:
For some, the game of love is sheer.

No charming glance, no gentle touch,
For you, these joys will not amount to much.
Invisible, ignored, you drift unseen,
A specter in a world so keen.

The brutal truth, let's not disguise,
In love's cruel market, your stock won't rise.
A futile chase, a wasted effort,
In a race where you're but naught.

Yet in this void, a liberation,
From the chains of romantic fixation.
No more shall longing cloud your sight,
In darkness, you'll find your light.

Embrace the void, the nihilist's creed,
Where from desire, you are freed.
In the abyss, where dreams decay,
A different path will come your way.

For in the absence of love's sweet illusion,
You'll find clarity, not confusion.
The pursuits of mind, of intellect,
In these, your worth is not suspect.

Let the world in shallow judgment dwell,
You'll find your heaven in what they call hell.
In knowledge, art, in truth's pursuit,
Your soul's desires better suit.

So welcome the darkness, let it be your guide,
In its depths, your true self resides.
For when from love's game you retire,
In that void, you'll find your fire.

Pessimistic, yes, but let it be known,
In this nihilist's soil, new seeds are sown.
Where hope and desire once did die,
New ambitions will take to the sky.

Harsh the words, but harsher the truth,
In the end, it's your unyielding youth.
So let the world its judgments cast,
In your own realm, you'll be vast.