Blot

Might she be able to love me,

If I obtain perfection?

For surely I am unworthy,

To even the most lenient of perception.

Why would anyone settle for less?

Why would anyone settle for the mess,

That I am?

Can I ever be admired,

For where I am?

Can I ever be loved,

For what I am?

For even my yearning,

Doesn’t make up,

For what I’m not.

And it cannot replace,

What I haven’t got.

And it doesn’t avail,

The blot – that is me.

 

 

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The pros and cons of being a loner

Being a loner can mean freedom and imprisonment,

That’s because it has its good points and bad points.

Being a loner means there’s no one there to judge you,

But there’s also no one there to comfort you.

There’s no one there to kick you while you’re down,

Buy there’s also no one there to pick you up from the ground.

There’s no one there to laugh at you,

But also no one there to laugh with.

There’s no one there to make you cry,

But there’s also no shoulder to cry on.

There’s no one around to condemn you,

But no one around to advise you.

There’s no one around to take advantage of you,

But no one around to be devoted to.

There ain’t no one to cause you annoyance,

But there ain’t no one to grant you solace.

There ain’t no one to pick at your flaws,

But there ain’t no one to sing your praises.

There’s nobody there to cause you to frown,

But there’s nobody there to turn a frown upside down.

There’s certainly no one about to harm you,

But certainly no one about to protect you.

There’s isn’t anyone to question you,

But there isn’t anyone to seek answers from.

Ultimately, being alone means there’s no one to fear,

But ultimately, it also means there’s no one to love.

 

 

Yearning

I’m in need,

Of a little love,

A little attention.

I could really use,

Some comfort,

Some affection.

But I understand,

That few are attracted,

To those,

With many limitations.

When it comes to love,

The destitute rarely receive,

Any satisfaction.

Taken in

Where do I begin?

Perhaps, I’ll start with the dream that took me in,

And then perhaps I’ll take it on the chin,

That when reality did set in,

My pride did wear thin.

 

Although being infatuated,

Is no reason to be castigated.

I can’t but feel humiliated,

For being so fascinated.

 

I wish I could say,

That I was never sucked in this way;

That my dignity was always on display,

And that I, on the better side of obsession, did stay.

 

My head has always pleaded for common sense,

Although my heart was hypnotized by your presence.

But I can’t keep making a fool of myself, hence –

To stop dreaming, is of utmost importance.

 

Now, I finally hope to start anew,

And to finally resist thinking of you.

Here’s to hopefully, bidding you ‘Adieu’.

― From the admirer, you never knew.

 

                                                                                                      

 

 

 

Explore

Now, of you, I know more,

But will it change the way I felt before?

Do our trials now give me a chance, a hope?

Since I know that you too, struggle to cope.

Now that I’ve read a map of your head,

Should I choose caution instead?

You yearn for someone to reach out and take your hand,

But can I ever be that man?

Can you trust me now that I know more?

Since I, in secret, your head did explore.

Fragility

You live, somewhere beyond,

Some place, I can’t get to.

My fortitude, does not correspond,

With the place, in which I’m desperate to find you.

I had convinced myself, rather foolishly,

That we’re both of the same kind.

Hoping that by you, I would be loved exclusively,

But who can love one, with such a delicate mind?