Love will always be an elusive dream,
And I know that I will never find it.
I will silently continue to scream
But I know I will never admit it.
My past wishes release from my torment.
This one ultimate wish, I cannot grant.
My heart has remained untouched and dormant
"But that is no ones fault but mine," I chant.
Love knocks against my heart, then moves on by,
"I never expect different," I say.
So, I ask myself, why do I still cry?
The answer is clear, yet it seems cliche.
This knowledge all can see is no fable.
Is my 'A' not enough of a label?