I don’t believe I’ll ever experience true love, Again. Maybe, I’m bound to die alone, Withering away inside of a casket pigeons try their best to pick at. But, I can’t help it. Lost, Is the art of catching a woman’s attention. Still the same man as I used to be, Yet, Not as handsome as others found me years ago. What happened?… Why am I no good?… Earlier today, I read a story about a man who unfortunately murdered, And, Raped the corpse of a woman he didn’t know, Returning back home to the woman he was dating at the time. As bad as I felt for her poor family as well as her devastating passing, I wondered, “How does a monster like that attract anyone at all?” And, Here I am, Doing my best to be as sweet as I can be. Staying out of trouble knowing how wrong it is to hurt others… If anything, I’m busy hurting myself, Everyday, In multiple ways. Over-eating, Not getting enough sleep. Beating myself up internally for being too cowardly, To ask others out on a date. “What a disappointment…” But, I digress. Because, A monster I refuse to become. Regardless of my lack of intimacy, I’d rather die alone, Instead of hurting anyone else… Being hurt is something I know too well…
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