If words were only actions-

I would something special be!

A thinker, and a charmer-

Instead of merely me.

 

For I have far more issues,

Than a porcupine has quills-

Or maybe more prolific,

Than Carter’s famous pills.

 

I fear I have a temper-

Or better yet, a rage-

With little provocation-

Required to set the stage.

 

While there are tender feelings-

Hidden deep inside-

I fear the ruling passion-

In my life, would be my pride.

 

I’ve taken hopes of romance-

And placed them on a shelf-

I want no vain pretensions-

I am honest with myself.

 

In my dreams are room for others-

But if the facts are known-

I’ll probably die the way I live-

Unloved, and quite alone.