Little White Dove…

As the room spins and the ceiling lowers,
I lay alone on my sofa,
Romanticising about finally being with the one,
Someone,
Not alone,
For once,
When and will I ever meet my Prince,
As time passes,
It becomes increasingly hard to convince,
Me,
Convince me that one day I alone,
Shall become two!
I don’t want to be just me,
I want to be two,
But I must confess,
That loneliness,
Seems to linger,
And manifest,
I sparsely meet people,
And when I do,
The ones with potential,
They show no interest,
And the ones without,
They do,
So whilst the people around me,
Fall in love,
I must still fly solo,
A lonesome little white dove,
Just wishing that I could,
Be as lucky as the rest of you!
And so I must savour my fantasies,
As if they were my realities,
Because love cannot find everyone,
It keeps dodging me,
I must be,
That unlucky someone,
No loving for me,
The illegitimate bustard,
It was never part of my recipe,
And therefor not my destiny,
Love is not for all,
And it is not for me,
The sooner I realise,
The less pain and catastrophe my future will have in store for me.

Destined For Catastrophy

They say that in life,
When we are born,
We are all on a certain path,
But what they don’t tell you,
Is that one decision,
One simple decision,
Can change and alter that path,
In some cases for eternity,
In others,
You may get lost for a little while,
As each path leads to another,
And another,
But the lucky ones,
They finally get back on track,
And fulfil their born destiny,
The luckier ones hurtle in their born direction,
From birth until their end,
But some of us get so lost,
And bewildered in the darkness,
That we loose a sense of self,
And without knowing ones self,
How can one know their own destiny?
I feel that I fall into the later category,
I feel like I am drifting out into the endless and bottomless sea,
And before I took sail,
I had lost every part of me,
Not misplaced,
But lost forever more,
And so I go on,
And on,
And on,
Drifting,
And drifting,
Not sure of my future.
I fear that I may have forsworn my born destiny,
But somehow know that it will be a lonely and bitter end for me,
Whoever, “Me” may be!
I dream and fantasise that one day,
Someone will come along and save me,
But as time passes,
Second’s,
Minute’s,
Hour’s,
Day’s,
Week’s,
Month’s,
Year’s,
That notion seems more and more improbable,
I just cling to it for comfort.
I don’t know what I was born to be,
What life could or should have had in store for me,
But I feel in my bones what will be,
What looms above me,
And it is not pleasant,
Welcomed,
Nor warranted.
It is disaster and catastrophe!