If I could stop and write a bit
There's nothing there for me to say
Not that I am feeling nothing
But that I feel so far away.
I ponder nightly of destiny
Is there an inevitability?
Does our struggle mean a thing
Or is it an exercise of futility.
'Cuz I'm so used to being Alone
But part of me can't accept that fate
I want to love the solitude
But I feel so lonely in this state.
I cannot feel attached at all
I'm stoic and my defenses are tall
What's it like to be in love?
And what's it like to be beloved?
I want to feel but it's so dull.
I'm colorblind in my senses.
Experiencing things in shades of grey
Peering at them through my fences
"I love their love and I am thankful / That someone actually receives the prize that was promised / by all those fairy tales that have drugged us / And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy. /Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery, / where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry", /just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky."