For the want of love and the subsequent lack thereof is my demise,
Love never shown it's warm passionate light on a man such as I,
For I gave more than received was the fuel that ignited my desires,
Dreams of endless nights with someone whose affections were returned,
None the less, continually met with a cold response, I never seem to learn,
Passion burning inside soon replaced with doubt, loneliness, searing pain,
Always one who was shy, treaded lightly in any relationship that I began,
Going in with confidence, I'm handsome, she likes me, lovers, yes we can,
But of course not you fool, never can I have a lover or lovers as everyone else,
Alas I'm not worthy of a woman's tender touch, her caress, much less her love,
Driven home like a stake in my heart, knowing now I will always be alone in life,
A drawn and broken man, a shell of one filled with sensuality, dying in love's light,
No need for a funeral, for who shall come to feel remorse at my anticipated demise,
As one never loved nor sexually desired, my passing is relief to whom I tried to love,
A memory for those is now erased, but me the dreams of what could live on and on,
Sing no songs, no words needed for nothing was accomplished in my lonely life,
A box for my repose is not needed, for I have rotted from cancer of never being loved,
Throw me aside for alone I was born, lived and died, yet a blemish on my own demise.
