"What's it like to always love,
And never be loved in return?"
She asked me.
I told her,
"You feel like the sun, a star,
Warm in cold space,
And you can see the other stars all about you,
But you can't reach any of them.
It's like being the last kid picked for the team,
Except you're never picked;
You're a spectator, but not by choice.
You're a kitten in the 'FREE' box,
Abandoned on the side of the road.
A great idea, but not many seem
To actually want you,
Everything you get is pity."
Oh, hi. And stuff.