a complaint letter

that stillness in the air
heavy draperies of black thick tar
it's all too familiar
when everything and anything stops and considers
what attitude to adopt, what to make out of it
death comes, and death never goes.

awkwardness to sadness
they say you get used to things
but it gets to me, each time.
it bites, and it eats chunks away from me
soon enough there'll be nothing of me.

what kind of world do we live in
to cherish the gone and forget the now
where loving is child's play and yet
it is selfish to say, ''i love you''
where it is inconsiderate to show you care.

is love something you created only for you?
do you take them away because the only one who deserves it is you?
i am running out of it, so please do not be expecting
it is true i have no ownership, for i do not find it myself
i stumble upon it and take a peek, a mere insect fascinated by fire.

i did not need to have been taught the lesson
i never took for granted the love that comes
i refuse to believe that i am undeserving
for i love, and that is the only thing i have and can do
so please, please stop taking them away from me.

let me love because i am worthless without it.