How could anyone love one such as this,
So sorrowful and riddled with loneliness,
Does self-pity rule these thoughts,
Or something more dearly bought,
Paid for with pain and silent suffering,

In this soul, where can joy's laughter ring?
Alone is more devious than a lie,
Alone inspires something that will never die,
A twisted noose of doubt and despair,
Does with the heart the mind ensnare.

A hollow, burning restlessness envelops and consumes the mind,
Thought and reason are or left behind,
Where does this loathesome needful purpose lead,
When will I ever be free of this need.....
To not be....