This One Goes Out To The Bird I Thought Of Poem by author unknown

I see your picture everyday.
I memorize your face.
I try to make the picture real,
as the sadness fades away.
It hurts to know how much
I yearn and how much you
don't, how much you hate
my ugly face.
I'm suprised I haven't
cried today.

I laugh sometimes, you know.
But that's a curse.
Nobody knows but me
How much it hurts
to see you gaze out
at the sun
and wish that I would go away.

You would think some god
would have thought to
make love work both ways.
Unfortunately, though
it seems we only look out for
ourselves, and let the
sadness flow inside.

People ask me to take the hurt away.
They tell me that it's necessary,
I must take their misery.
Say the right words,
Hold them the right time,
Take all their sadness till I die
for nothing.

But what about you?
What about me?
I'm a failure at love.
And yet, they still ask me,
As though some lousy poet
can give them the answers
they need.

I laid down on the concrete,
waiting to be killed.
But you won't even come
to watch me die.
I fear you might feel glad inside
as if some burden left
your side.

I might always wait at your window
Holding a candle
Crying out for your love
Waiting for your glance
But I don't deserve my millionth chance
But I gave you another million
to watch your love unfold.

I don't know what possessed you to touch me.
If you felt my warmth,
Why you loved my stomach,
and you hated my soul.
Why my poetry, my beauty
was never good enough.

I know I don't look right in a Tshirt and jeans.
I know I have a long nose
and my face is rather mutilated.
I know that all my scars
make you turn away.
But my eyes, can't you see my eyes
adoring you?

You will never read this poem.
Like you never read them before.
I must have written this poem
a hundred times,
holding up the ruler,
I never measured up.
I was never good enough.

My words only fail me
as I write them in blood,
as your words, your anger,
your apathetic looks
burn up my ugly heart.

And all you have to scream is:
'WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? '
What could I say?
How many things are wrong, wrong, wrong
how many things won't go away.
I may not be absurd in thinking
That love will not easily come my way.
If I told other men my story
They would surely run away
Frightened by the love
that overflows from poetry.

So helplessly I stand by,
looking at your picture,
Forever holding the candle
up to your window.
Crying out to you:
'Won't you save me from myself? '
As you walk away and tell others
Of my pathetic pose:
Never good enough
Always falling
As you carelessly watch me forgive you.