Shamed

Many are my needs,

But few are my deeds,

To cure my deprivation.

Too little of progress’s seeds,

Are scattered among us weeds,

To curb my dissatisfaction.

And there’s no rose to be found,

Near my impoverished ground,

To reap any satisfaction.

(I want to make a sound,

And let her know I’m around,

But I’m shamed, into inaction.)

Poor Me

Love comes at a hefty price, for me,

A fee that I’m unable to pay.

That’s why I’m loveless, you see,

Since the wealth of self-worth, never came my way. 

I cannot afford love – it’s true,

And I’m deprived in this regard.

I so wish to amass the adequate amount due,

So that, from this commodity, I will no longer be barred.

Sometimes, I still search for someone, to hand it out for free,

And to understand that I lack the courage needed for this transaction.

But, if anything, I’m probably overlooked for my poverty,

Thus, I remain alone, still searching for comfort; satisfaction.

 

Love me?

I cannot say… ‘I love you’,

No, to this I will not confess.

Since, I don’t know if those words are true.

How can I say it, and mean it,

When I know I’m not good enough for you?

So, these words cannot be used unless,

I’m convinced that you love me too.

 

Apart

I guess there’s no way of knowing,

The way you feel about me,

And whether or not I made,

The right impression on your heart.

Perhaps I should just accept,

That all we’re meant to be – is apart.

Smitten

Yes, I’ll admit I was smitten,

And that by the love bug I was bitten,

But tales of romance are never written,

For us ugly ogres – who don’t fit in.

Dreams

At night my mind replays to me,

My need for love and affection,

Such that I dreamt of a situation,

Whereby, I had come to others’ attention.

They seemed to respond well to my presence,

And to their ranks I was invited,

But my cowardice showed,

So I ran away, and left them unrequited.

Why would I run away?

I felt too embarrassing, too unworthy to stay.

They offered me what I was looking for,

 – A sense of belonging.

But when I got what I wanted, I realised,

I’m not ready for the prize,

But only for its longing.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

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.