What is love?
I thought to myself as I watched a couple in the park,
I know it's a feeling that is felt by most,
On the heart is where it leaves it's mark,

But where did it come from? Why is it here?
And when will I get my turn?
To experience this brilliant addiction to bliss,
Is there something I've missed or not learned?

For I have yet to feel such a thing,
As happiness in the arms of another,
But I have seen the remains when disaster has struck,
And torn all their dreams asunder,

I have seen a lone soul,
Under its passionless control,
Who has climbed to the top of his tower,
And took one small step to come plummeting down,
At the end of his final hour,

So what is this love?
This beautiful white dove,
Well for now I cannot say,
But perhaps there's a time when love will be mine,
Someone, somewhere, someday,

I am tired of nothing and of existing in shade,
Bored with being alone,
Because surely the sorrow, the grief and the pain,
Are worth the incredibly high,
And maybe one day I too will find,
Myself balancing right on the edge,
As I tip over I'll use my last draw of breath,
To say that final 'goodbye'.