I'm not the one for you,
Or you for me.
And our love is unfilled,
Or invisible.
That she's doing so well,
I'm not, I feel bad.
Longing with a sigh for,
What I'll never have.
You smile and decide,
Tell me, sugarly, I'm wrong.
The artist hitched a ride,
To which purpose do you belong?
Someday I'll leave,
Binge on tuna fore each eve.
Diminish with protein,
And for who? You, my lean.
Always cared but seldom so,
Compassion is for Sundays.
Were I bearded, "Ho ho ho."
I'm not. Oh, where to go?
I wrap myself under cover,
Solace, away from lovers.
Yawn and turn from the sun,
Sleeping still remains fun.
