so it were
Sadness begins in the end of what could be,
Where the people sat just across the aisle,
Like it were so little.
But I will never have,
But never the same,
And for that I feel alone,
And without meaning in this desolate night.
What had you seen now and then,
Along the sides of poorly knitted scarfs,
The little bit that remains and is frayed.
To begin again,
Little more than to fall between,
I wish I had been given the bare minimum.
Such a large amount to ask,
For the terms of what is.
Stand in concordance with my shadowed figure,
Of what I wish I were,
There never could be.