I’m sorry you say you feel this way (you know who you are), and I still say it isn’t the truth.
Come and find me in these shadows,
in my overcast melancholy.
I sit in my corner like a punished child
and stare through the rain out the windows.
Here you can find me vulnerably curled,
looking only a slight altered from my innocence –
which I’ve lost and for that I pay penance,
but my fortunes may yet become their namesake.
Even so, I doubt even my own consolation.
I comfort myself because I’ve no one to do it for me,
so I soothe myself out of necessity.