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Poem

So long ago
the world was an oyster 
To my hand.
Obtaining my lifelong dreams
were the infinite plan.
At times it feels like I stand on quicksand
However the sad truth is this is called reality.

Staring people in cold distant eyes
Few are warm and inviting
Still I hold on
waiting on my true angel,
true love to arrive.

What I do I can not complain
At times my own ways, drive me insane
So how can I expect another to maintain
A level of faithfulness
When the thought has been always to not make him my main.

The million dollar question is
Why do I repeat the same repetitive actions
Receiving the same results
Disappointed when true love does not appear
Disillusioned that trust can actually reappear
Self is who has to earn my own trust
Before I can give to another
Really before i should make him my lover
Until then I sit there waiting in my own reality.

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