Appreciate* the loneliness in me.

One day it wont beg for you no more.


*Sandoval

When it was all so true,
I felt so new and so did you,
Why did you quit then?

At a time when I loved you,
Even you used to love me,
Why did you get lost then?

My track record was loyal,
Not once did I cheat you,
Why did you cheat me then?

When you needed me,
I was not much far,
Why did you consider me incapable then?

At the beginning of your youth,
Very cute you were,
Why did you start putting makeup then?

My requirement was not beauty,
Not a shallow person am I,
Why did you misinterpret me then?

All I had was love & faithfulness,
You should have given me both or either,
Why then should I feel so cheated?

So far things have been pretty great.
Not much to complain about.
Ever food upon my plate.
And yet to be blessed with gout.
I started as a little boy.
Probably crying. Who cares or knows?
Turned into a crawling bag of blood.
Ten fingers and ten toes.
A fun but forgotten formation.
With morning baths my plight.
Mountains of information.
Before a slumbered switch of light.
Sometimes sleep eluded me.
Sometimes I eluded it.
But food was always fresh and free.
Computer monitor always lit.
Avoiding smoked pressure.
As a rarely rebellious teen.
The black of my shirts a measure.  
Of the horrors I've yet to see.
Some studies, stress and cars.
Normal, expected, much like most.
Some loves, regrets and bars.
Some bacon, eggs and toast.

-----------
Or
-----------

Like the many, many others.
With ever waning health.
Untouched by a loving mother.
Not born with relative wealth.
I sleep in slums, streets and shacks.
With whole hunger in my eyes.
I live inside the calloused cracks.
Of a veiled, dirt disguise.
Today's another closing door.
Another dose of killing time.
To letters I am an underscore.
The darkest beam of sunshine.
Tomorrow seems like much the same.
More escaping to get by.
Living inside the cruelest game.
Difficulty set to high.
The transparent cloak I wear.
Has been through the coldest times.
It protects me from the stares.
Of their perfect, endless eyes.
I am nothing but these begging hands
Nothing but a will to cope.
A lack of plans and fashion brands.
The lack of a noosed hope.