The ultimate poet (Part2)

You join your thought
of fire-ants on ice cubes,
having foam heart attacks
in that dark room
Where nothing carries your name...

You look at your wrinkled legs
that pulse without your knowledge
and prevent you from relaxing,
Stealing your happiness.

A discarted love.
A revealed secret.

And you're ignored by those worker ants
That silently relieve your pain,
Furfilling your selfish purpose

Your soul shatters
"You didn't love her!"
Your essence wrips
"I think I loved her"

Words don't touch you anymore.
You're the ultimate poet.