I guess I get unimpressed
by most of which I read.
Even my own writings,
knowing fully how that seems.
A bit depressing to hear these tidings,
that tug gently at my seams.
Misery always seems inviting
on this side of the screen.
Where is the romance in delighting
of life and all its wonderful dreams?  
Am I the only one to get excited
at things I cannot see?
I cannot be the only one to share
what I believe.
I promise more awaits you than
lusting over sorrow
and feeling in between.