poem

Never have I been known to hope,
for hope springs eternal, I don't.
Never have I wished upon shooting stars,
they are long gone before you open your eyes.
So why then should I commit to feeble heartstrings
and things that burn out?
Why should I bother picking up the phone again,
to suffer awkward hellos and curt goodbyes?
This is insane, this game we are playing,
a couple of crazy kids in a soap opera fantasy