As the great Van Gogh said,
“I wish they would only take me as I am”
These words fill my head
As I realize I am ******.

For my strange, untrained soul
Does not struggle intensely
Trying to love as a whole;
Blind to its own propensity
To seek perfection and impossibilities.

I will remain entirely unaltered.
My heart cannot lie so hard
To pretend to love entirely unbothered.
And I will not drop my guard,
Lest to be left and hindered.

My hopeful ignorance assumes
That this is readily understood.
But when reality resumes,
I already knew no other soul could
Perceive and grasp this certain kind of doom.

Before I come completely undone,
I seek to reconcile my poignant mistake.
I’m only packing for my own sake
When turn my lonesome self around and run.

And so I am ******
As the only thing
That I can bring
Is me, as I am.