Who can love me as I am?
Who can love this pale imitation of a man?
Who out there is willing to say:
“As you are, please stay.”?
Who is blind enough to take on the task,
Of rebuilding the shattered pieces of glass,
That once formed the mirror of my content,
But now is just the source of my constant lament?
Who is she, so fair, that would give me a chance?
Where is she, the one, that can my worthiness enhance?