Sometimes
I sit
and I ask myself
selfish questions
important to me,
Me Alone.
They aren't all very deep.
But all of them,
Are about me.
Sometimes,
it is something
I wish I had
or that
I feel I need.
If my scope broadens
As it has in occasion
I think about another
Gone. Now.
These thoughts
are full circle
Back to me.
How I miss them
If they think of me?
if I ever will see them again?
Why they left me?
So selfish,
not to want
As I want.
When they are all
I seem to think about.
How lonely it is
for Me.
Why make Me feel
This way.
Nobody ever thinks,
About Me.
Me.
Me.
Me.
