All the wretched

As it pours now in from a past, I can attest to the rapport of we recall
In awkward exchange if at your best and what we would call an ideal beyond us now
But what was the reason?
And as we churn to writhe and wallow and twist into grins,
All vacant shells of expectations grown barren and thin
And some have known and dragged for some years burned in skin
As eyes have dulled as the satisfactions are laid to rest.

I don't want to die in bed.
I want to go out the way we came in,
Kicking and screaming.
If everybody lies and no one is listening
Then why are we the exception?