You are.
I am not.
I may never be.
It just ain't me.
You?
I don't know you.
I do not know the reasons,
You've changed like the seasons.
Even if I did—I could not fully comprehend,
Doesn't mean I don't want to.
It isn't me to be closed up,
It isn't me to hide any of my sides.
With this, I am predisposed
To pain.
But I really can't complain,
And let me explain.
Unavailability means devoided, empty, nonexistent.
Your whole self is not present.
You are missing a piece of you.
It isn't your fault,
But you shouldn't put yourself in a vault.
Where no one can reach you, don't you grow lonely?
It's been you only,
Just yourself solely.
You wonder why you don't feel complete?
You need emotions, otherwise—
Otherwise, life would be aimless.
Emotions are food for humans, some nourishing, some poisoning.
We'd all like a break from them at times,
But I see them as a necessity.
I enjoy solitarily very much,
But there's a greater power in me.
There's a longing that never fades.
For another soul,
to become acquainted with,
To share those emotions with.
You are unable to be available,
And I can never see myself as inaccessible.
There may come a day when the roles are switched,
But we'd still be doomed.
I wish I weren't consumed
By this, but I am.
As I could never comprehend,
Why so many people pretend
To be devoided of emotions—it's pointless.
As if they were an object we could control.
I cannot.
But it seems as if you certainly could.
You cannot tame your inner flame.
How could you be so lame?
Can't you see, I cannot control my claim!
But I wish you felt the same.
