To think that
All of this time
I should have been
Asking myself

The reason I’m single
Is because she’s
Better than me –

For what
Have I really secured
To earn such love
From a woman

When writing
A few weak phrases
And calling them
Art with a cause?

As poetry
Isn’t some gift
But the job
Of heaven almighty –

A calling
Which can be serious
If honoring God
Through your voice,

For money
Isn’t its bliss
Or message
Of written salvation

And that’s hardly
Deserving of safeties
Or a chance
At making her swoon.

For she needs
You to offer her life
And not such fear
Of resentment

Like miseries
Born of this talent
Which follow hurt
Where they must,

Deep into pits
Of regret
And tragedies
Born from distinctions

As failures witnessed
To better relate
Through our words.

So before
Growing easily mad
And questioning
“Why am I lonely?”

Peer within
At those demons
And realize
It’s better to wait

Than jumping
Headfirst into hate
Or pounding on doors
For an answer

Accepting these locks
Are a blessing
Would rather not see.

– J. Pigno

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