Is it strange to want to be alone?
to feel so small at home?
to be half alive and soak into your soul?

I've seen myself a million ways
and spent so many more.
I'm so tired of all my thrills being
the completion of another chore.

Yes, I rhyme these days it's true.
Because I've found distraction, and
it might be you. Something pure,
there is no cure. There is a day
I know I will show you.
Let's call it my "day to prove".

The day you learn
that
all my poetry
has been written for you.