Friction Poem by Samantha Stough

Its funny how fickle a person can be
And they think the hypocrite is me
The feeling company brings is so good at first
And then it declines to short bursts
Bliss to emptiness
And completion to depletion
I wonder why it has to be this way
I think we all ask ourselves this some day
Chasing for a miracle back and forth
It makes my days sick and sore
Pluto can't be as cold as you
I don't care how much you deny that it isn't true
I sense these things, but choose not to believe
But a greater pain I receive
Oh, I will never learn
I still play with fire despite the burn
I carry on with a battered heart and a broken thought
I am but a fly defined by which the web I am caught
I bent backwards so far only to never get up
A pile of dirt is worth more than my luck
Caring too much is a terrible addiction
If I could fall any faster,
I think i would have died from the friction