I've tried being who and what you want me to be.

That I can never accomplish. In spite of my continual striving to do just that.


My heart wants to do more than beat its monotonous rhythm,

Even outwardly cold people need the heat of love within.

All I want is for you to show I mean something. Anything.

Nothing is all I have. It is all I was given. Yet all I do is give.

Something I can't quite comprehend, this solitude.


No, it's isolation. I didn't choose to be this outcast; not willingly.

Once, I felt the glimmer of hope you did care.

That I was worth more than just a quick fondle. More than a cheap thrill.

However, life has that funny way of proving us all wrong.

I can't be that person anymore. I don't agree with your selfish attitude.

Needing me only when you need to see something more piteous than you.

Get out of my head. Get out of my thoughts. Just go.


Tell me something other than your problems. I have enough of my own.

Over time, I've come to realise everything I thought we had was just a charade.


Yet I don't know if I would change a thing. I love being near you.

Only as a friend; I have no misconceptions that it would go further. This is it.

Unless you disregard my dying wish, don't dare pretend you really knew me when you find my body.


Oh I work these miserable little things too frequently. I promise I'll stop spamming my account up with them soon.-ish.