But I don't think you realize
how lonely a person can feel
sometimes.
I roll out of bed,
alone.
I walk around with others around me
but feel isolated, and out of tune.
I hate all of you.
And I sit at home alone dreaming
of something that's ridiculous
and juvenile,
but it eats away at me because
I can't have lovely things.
Can't I have a hand to hold sometimes?
Lips to kiss my forehead and whisper
sweet nothings to me while we lay
in the darkest of night, wide awake?
Maybe a heart for me to hear beating
when I rest my head against your chest.
Someone to bring the broom when I crumble
to tiny little pieces.
Just someone to keep me down when
I can't stop shaking.
Hands and fingers, to grace my skin
with their prescence.
But I can't have that,
because lovely things are
just out of my reach.