I stand alone, somewhere in between the sea and the sky.
I look beneath and see an ocean
Filled with fluid that looks like crimson.
Is that scarlet liquid mine? Or of the people that loathe me?
Is that maroon solution mine? Or of the people who hug me?
I look up and see the sky,
It looks dark and eerie;
Is it a demonstration of the eternal melancholy that I am carrying?
Or Is it a glimpse of hatred that lies within me relentlessly bothering;
Or perhaps,
Is it just a blurry vision of the deep felt disgust that people tend to hide when they sense the mere presence of mine.
Was I ever affectionate?
Or Did I just manipulate myself into believe in the notion that I was capable of loving someone other than my selfish being?
Will I ever be able to fathom how to love someone who is not me?
Will I ever be capable of loving?…
