I want to be alone, I do. I want to be alone.
And yet I want, oh, yes, it's true, to be with flesh and bone.
I stare, but she's not looking. I look, but she's not there.
I crave and beg attention. Oh Life, you are not fair!
I look with lusting longing. I long, but I don't look.
I'm caught, entrapped by beauty and skin's appealing hook.
For what, pray, are you looking? And what may be your gain?
You rant and spout out poetry as if you were insane.
I know not what I'm seeking. I'll tell you when I do.
But something from me's leaking like blood or morning's dew.
Tell me what I'm missing. What secret does she keep?
What holds the mind so spellbound the body does not sleep?
I do not wish her to be mine, but mine to now enjoy,
And so I see that selfishness is all that holds this boy.

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