poetry, for her

foolish.

The knuckles of my hands turn a ghostly white

As I grasp onto what I know I'll only lose.

There's too many people fighting for the same thing,

And I'm the least powerful one of them.

My voice is smaller than I am. It's microscopic.

I barely raise it enough to be heard.

But my cries are louder than the waves on the shore

As I find out that I'll never get what I'm striving to have.

A quick glance left... I turn back to my screen immediately.

Maybe I don't deserve to win this.

A possession prized by many

Can only be truly cherished by one.

I keep myself composed, I have to.

I can't open the floodgates now.

Can't be angry, can't be sad,

Because neither of those things are my place to be.

But I don't know how much longer I could take this.

I can't hold it in much more. I'm vulnerable

One more blow to the heart or to the head, and I'm done for.

I always take these games too seriously.

Oh, my poor soul. It can only grieve

For the death of a romance that wasn't even blooming.

For the death of a comfort that never even happened.

For the death of my own self when my day is decided.

It's done... it always was.

It never started.

I am foolish.

I am so foolish.