A Point To Prove
There is no need to cry for love never obtained,
No sense in giving life to fleeting dreams.
These hands so yearn for touch, but are untrained,
And life, too short to waste on flying whims.
Perhaps, these pleasures were not made for me ,
And all I merit is a drawn-out, loveless life.
I've found no dear embrace to warm me,
When all around, the loves of others seem so rife.
I have no purpose left to drive me,
Merely a pulse, which bids my feet to move.
I am a ghost, in search of one who may revive me,
Before I'm left without a point to prove.
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