A sort of made-up in ten minutes poem about the mixed-up feelings of me. |
Why is it that I no longer feel alive? I feel so dead all the time; I need people to fill my life. I guess what I'm missing is that someone special, But how am I supposed to find him? This world is huge and I'm one tiny piece; He's another tiny piece, So how am I supposed to know where to look? He could be in Italy or in Brazil; He may not even speak English, And yet, this is the love that keeps me going; It keeps me fighting, the thought that one day... That one day I'll find a love so true That nothing will ever tear me away. There is a thought that he will be different From all the rest; from all those guys Who tell you lies so they can say that they Are better than someone else because of who they Did over the weekend, or who gave them some head. The thought that someone out there is different, It's what drives me on through the whispered talk Of my ex- and his friends, of the people I once Called my friends. I hate the way they sit there and talk Like I can't hear them; like I can't Understand what they said, what they are still Saying. It'll pass eventually, but until then, I need those friends who were always there For me and always will be. What can I do, though, when they're all gone? Who's there to talk to when they're not around? There's no one, so I sit and imagine. I imagine the day I found the one guy who Can make me so happy I forget about the lies, The lies that haunt me and make me cry. It is this imagination of mine that keeps Me going, charging head-first into whatever is Coming. More obstacles to block the way, But I can fight and hope to win. |