Thoughts Of One Who Can't Love

It is not difficult to accept the fact that I will be alone
Rather it is unbearable to be shown the undeniable fact
That everyone else will not be

They’ll laugh all shaked up, together in twos
Laughing, talking, singing the blues
And maybe sometimes think of me
And think “that poor thing, shouldn’t we
inquire how they’re doing”

I’m fine going to the museum on my own
Just don’t
Look at everybody else who isn’t
Look instead at the paintings of lonesome, proud people
There at the top of a mountain with no one around for
miles

They’re fine right?
None of them are crying at night?
None of them write a poem out of spite?
To ignite some sort of light or fight left inside them
Some kind of emotion, some kind of devotion
That just seems entirely foriegn to them?

I know most worry about the execution, or the aftermath
But I can’t get the engine going