i dreamt of the things i can't have,
dreamt of the friends i don't know
i dreamt of knowing who i am,
of learning how to feel,
and feeling something real

summer's escaped me again,
but that's not the worst

knowingingly letting it go pains me,
goes against what i want
self-sabotage is evident,
ignorance too

days have passed when depression has come,
times when i really felt careless,
when i thought life was pointless,

death is an illogical fear,
logic, however fills me to brim,
instincts hold me back,
self-mutilation: cowardly, stupid

what else could there be anyway,
beyond this place we call life,
an unfair world,
where some people live only wanting to die,
while others would kill for more time

and people like me, somewhere in between,
enjoying the rare highlights of life,
wishing for more,
wanting to escape,
fearing being free

the days when rain comes,
gloomy and dark,
the sky only shows up in blotches,
light can't seep through to me,
i like it

i don't live a life that i love,
i just wish i could find something to live for,
care for, something i can't live without

why does the lone wolf exist,
having no reason to exist?
it's only for fear of not existing,
instinctively placed in his mind

maybe sometime things will change,
i'll find something to live for,
right now i'm tired,
tired of being the lone wolf

so i guess now i wait,
for who knows what or how long,
but i think i'll know when i find it
and then i'll be crushed when i lose it,

i'll consider myself lucky however,
because others must still be waiting,
living only to live,
creating false poetry like my own

when i'm finally happy or completely destroyed,
i'll try to remember what it was like,
when i wished i could escape and was too afraid to,
when i was as i am today,
just another lone wolf,
just another numb poet