The moons orbit never seems to match mine,
But I've twisted my own orbit,
Countless times,
I've gone left as she does,
And when she turns so do I,
But after I change my orbit,
She changes again in front of my eyes,
Yet I cannot constrict her,
And tell her go along this way,
And no one is confiding me,
To twist and turn my shape,
But I've cut off corners of myself,
I've sliced of pieces of my soul,
So that I could follow her,
And she hasn't noticed at all,
When she sees me in her orbit,
She thinks of it as serendipity,
She does not cut from herself,
And so I'm binded in stupidity,
I want her to cut for me,
Without telling her to cut,
I don't want her hurt,
But perhaps hurt she must,
I cut off an arm,
Just to look into her eyes,
Yet she hasn't cut me anything,
And so I sit and cry,
But she isn't compelled,
To do any of the such,
But oh I'm tired,
From giving so much.