I planted my misery
Deep in the ground, hoping it
Would die and leave me in peace
Instead it blighted my crops
Withered my orchard, left me
Desolate, dry and barren

I planted my misery
Deep in the ground, hoping it
Would die and leave me in peace
Instead it blighted my crops
Withered my orchard, left me
Desolate, dry and barren
What am I To you?
A secret smile?
A guilty pleasure?
Or nagging burden?
The weight of your sins
Prolonging your grief
What am I to me?
An object of pride?
Or subject of scorn?
The butt of a joke?
What I try and hide
But cannot escape
What are you to me?
A moment’s daydream?
A light in the dark?
Possible future?
Or delusion to
Ease longing’s dull sting
If there is a beautiful
Woman to watch me, I am
Unbeatable. But what can
I do in the dark, alone?
I wander this world in
Search of who I was, who I
Could have been, my missing piece.
We only see each
Other through frosted
Glass, shapes and colors
I tell myself that if I
Could hold you for only a
Moment more, I would be healed.
This is only a
Poor substitute for
A real, vital life
Talking to you is just such
A waste of time, yet I keep
On doing it and feel worse
The narcissism of your
Depression debilitates
Me, drains me of love for you