How uncertain the days go by
The months pass and still we aim for the sky
How many years we are hoping for love
For more than decades we pray that there is an above
I am almost at the end of my uncertainty
A century hoped for and certain
There is a drug we take everyday
A vitamin of sorts for the affliction
Sick of love but wanting it
It's almost close to depression or elation
So I press my sweaty palms and grip
Each finger is enclosed and I am close
Until each morning is awaited
To more than just another man