I'll howl at the moon,
And still my words will never reach you.

I'll stare at the ever same sun you watch set,
for a thousand years,
and still never again cast my gaze upon you.

I'll think of every way to, sway your heart,
like verdant palm trees in a strong breeze,
strong, and yielding, to me.

And I'll write every ounce of my joy,
Into this soft spoken pen,
Thinking, if, and only then.

But I'm a monster without a name,
Even still, my roar fades all the same.
I'm good at something, oh to be sure,
I'm very good at pushing,
The few ones I can love,
away for good.