Even before the air touched my lungs
I’ve been missing something,
and after decades of foolish stunts
I’m still searching for that one thing.
As a child I tended to believe in “beyond”
taking fairy tales as the guide to “more”.
I became irrationally fond
of breaking the “real” for a “score”.
It led me to hurt that I cannot process
as the real couldn’t compare.
Every thing that I’ve done doesn’t feel like success,
and satisfaction is rare.
I have grown and this “spite”
should have withered and died
crushed by adulthood view and fails
but it prevails.
I am crippling my life
building future on hope
that this gaping hole
could be filled.
Even before I managed to lose myself
I could remember the longing,
and when I saw you, I swear I could deal
with the pain in my heart.