Poetry for the heartless and heartbroken

Unbecoming

What will become of me?
If I lose what's little left of me
Tiny pieces of what I used to be
Turned to nothingness
I've become dust
Slipping away through my fingers
Lost to the world
My unbecoming has just begun
I'm a skeleton
A leafless tree without roots
A rose with no petals, just thorns
I scare the rising sun
The moon has loved me for an eternity
My heart is sedated
So is my soul
I can't feel but the numb tugging of a stitching wound
I shall rise
Another bright star, in this hopeless world
Not even Sirius will opaque me
In my unbecoming I become