To what is love? A pain? A sorrow to be told?

Why do the lone suffer to this word?

Why do the outcasts fail to be so bold,

As earn a place with the love birds?

Why, I ask you, is the reason for this state of shyness?

Could it be the overgrown depression?

For the everlasting lover steals a heart with slyness,

While the others are still asking questions.

Why, I ask you, is it too hard to try?

Could it be you are too quiet?

Then, my friend, you must present a lovers cry,

But not too loud as to bring riot.

Why, I ask you, must you stay in the shadows?

The light outside is very bright.

For when you join others to offer a rose,

You will begin to behold of a true sight.

Why, I ask you, do you ignore me?

I am only trying to help!

If you wish to be together, hear my plea,

You obviously don’t have self-help.

Why, I ask, do you run away?

Could it be the sound of the drums?

Fear not, dear friend, for your heartstrings they weigh,

The more you feel , the more they strum.

Why do I ask you these questions of curiosity?

The answer is very simple to see.

For in our colossal community of loneliness,

We all lie in our silent solemn lowliness.