Being good enough is entirely subjective.

Not knowing,
but understanding,
that you'd never be.

So alone I stand,
record as clean as a babe's.

Not because no one's good enough.
But because I'll never be good enough.

When they leave,
One
By
One,
I never protest.

I watched,
and empathised.

What I have,
everyone has.

What I lack,
anyone can make up for

I only wish for that simple happiness.
Of love.

Yet how can I?

Thus I'm content,
in my halfheartedsoul,
that I will never be anyone's cup of tea;
should never be.

They deserve better,
much better,
but I just can't help myself,
from thinking,
if.