Questions?

For whom do I owe the honor to,
For me to feel like such shit,
In these times of sitting alone,
With nowhere to go?

Is it you?

Your choice to leave me where I stand,
At any given point you choose,
Dangling yourself in front of me,
And pulling the prize in a tease.

That isn't what I need,
And if at any point which I did need it,
I could become a children's clown,
And be teased and tormented by them.

Is it me?

Do I just do things as I sit here,
That you don't approve of?
Do I say things that offend you,
But you don't say anything about?

These are things that I wish to know,
I can fix these things,
Be a better person,
And then be something worth mentioning.

Bad luck maybe?

The extreme coincidences that occur,
Each time we plan to do something.
When something looks to be concrete in planning,
Gets shattered like glass in execution.

The chance that there will be a time,
In which we could ever physically be together,
Becomes smaller and smaller,
Without the feedback from you.

Anything else may be going too far,
And I don't want to take any leap I can't land,
Be there to say something to me,
And one day we'll just see.

I want you to take my word,
And give it a try.