The pain of it all,
Almost too much to bear.
I despise being alone,
Without anyone to care.

Why is it that love
Is so impossible to find?
Perhaps it is because
Of my strange state of mind.

Little things make the difference,
While beauty is skin deep.
But yet here I am,
With no one to keep.

My visions of love,
Are without a doubt,
Incredibly simple,
With no real amount.

She will have beautiful eyes,
And a heart of sparkling gold.
The wings of an angel,
And romanticism of old.

Chivalry is where my heart lays,
The thought of the ancient.
A dead tradition,
With unfortunate lost patients.

Hurt is a pleasure,
With a deep black core.
I think I should get used to
Feeling alot more.