They say that there are a lot of ways to die;
Smoke a cigarette daily,
You will die ten years early.
Drink alcohol daily,
You will die thirty years early.
Love someone who doesn't love you back,
You will die daily.
The last option is the worst
Yet most effective
The pain is unbearable
You will not even have a choice
But to do the latter
To become numb if you suppose.

I could keep writing you poems you'll never read

Or I could put my pen down and bandage my own heart

Either way, I would still lose because I wouldn't have you