If things were simple and I could not imagine
all these things I feel that I am missing tonight
If I were not a poet, not a romantic, not a dreamer
and I could ignore what could be or have been.
If I slept well alone or summoned the strength
to cook for myself and eat alone every night.
If I could dream of a life where I was alone
and not grasping for an unattainable possession.
If there were androids for me to fall in love with
and understand for all their simple programming.
If men could be a known quantity not this heart
rending wondering if they are telling the truth.
If I could settle for anything besides fire
and lightning and a balm for addiction.
A dreamer I'd continue to be.
Right now, I hate poetry.
I hate this mind and body.
But, I am trapped and tired.
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