Can you hear that sound
Like a tiny whining
You're a sad eyed puppy
Inside
It's a kind of yearning
When pining
away, wanting someone or something
So expensive beyond reach
The mind begins to fantasize what it's like,
Infantilize what's real life.
Enlisting unreasonable scenerios
Creative now with lies
And denials and exit strategies,
Scapegoats of close members of family, accusatory..
Blame all but yourself
Inflammatory story's demise
Because the lost moments spent
Pining away
Will die unknowing your real life self.
Inside that fog of fictitious false depictions
Who dat?
Starving yourself blind
See there on that podium
Your bad phat shines
Always in first place--gold medal favorite
Hooray it's not quite you or even true.
If pining were a sport
Having lost your minds
You'd all be winners.
Celebrity famous, go on
Crave being extra, so street savvy
"Hey Alexa, Google, Suri
Define obsession."
Pining turns dangerous
In absentia dysplased
Souls are stolen,
Human replicas.
Still carrying on pining
Away.
Killer lover blank.
Got brain? Bullets?
A shiv or Shank?
Sharp as a pine tree...

(Please,
Don't forget to give
Thanks.)