Alone

I'll never amount to anything more.

I am

A tree without sunlight.

A flower without rain.

All I am is an empty creature.

And All I'm ever going to be

Is broken inside.

You turn me away... no matter what my approach.

Knives digging into my flesh each time.

Why do I persist?

I am most obviously unwanted here.

What drives me to put myself through this pain?

Whips of flame, chains of idiocy.

I burn myself as I weep for you.

And for what?

For that which

I'll always see

But never have