A poet at heart. A romantics eye. A best friends ear. Hands that grab at the sky. A mind that wanders, in dark abyss. A smile that hides behind the closed curtain of the mind. Remaining limbs that struggle with their all. A voice that's barely louder than a crawl. A mouth that only talks to itself. Fingers that want to be connected with the one. A body that wants to be held, to stay forever warm or cold. All, nothing, in between, inner, and outer, this self is lonely by its own cause. 
        I'm just me, leave it at that.