I am only a human
Made of flesh and bone.
I have a beating heart
Along with feelings and thoughts
That constantly circulate through my dome.
But day after day
I become more afraid
That this beating heart is slowly
But surely turning to stone.
I’m not quite sure how or when
It came to be,
That all these pretty faces only
Want me
For one night...
As opposed to taking the time to see
And change
The ever dimming light
That is me.
I’ve become so good at pretending
That I don’t care.
But perhaps I actually don’t,
Because spending most nights alone
Are becoming not so hard to bear.
Or perhaps they all can see
Right through my ice cold glare,
Realizing that I very well could be
Emotionally damaged beyond repair.
