Born to love, not to be loved.
Poems written in my blood-
devoted dedication,
merely for your affection.
In return only mocking,
I received for my working.
Endless nights of solitude,
met with distant attitude.
Ashes from my love were born.
All those heartfelt messages torn.
Once wished you had cared much more,
all I could do is adore.
My love a fragile daisy,
your "love" a poison, hazy.
Thought you tended my daisies.
Should have guarded my graces.
Wondered if my eyes had seen,
how you had really been-
Would I have stayed once again?
Would I dare to bear the pain?

