The ravenous hunger of helplessness
Is enough to kill a man.
The sick torment of unsatisfied love
And passion
Swells inside me like a calloused pair of murderous hands.
The brightest, most charismatic star,
The one around which I revolve,
Is oblivious to its dictation over my life.
Yes, it dictates,
But not in a way repressive, rather,
Positively influential.
Yet all the same, I cannot help
The direction onto which
Its own radiance guides me.
My soul laments my own inability
To grasp such incomprehensible beauty.
My heart scratches like a caged animal,
Begging and crying
To obtain the object so close and yet
So out of reach.
Passion
So saddening
Vexes to the core,
Along with the need and crave for worthiness
Of this iridescent figure.
Helpless to my own overpowering strength of passion,
I am so sorrowful
And so thankful.