In failure always the wooer, never the wooed.
I dream of a man who would present me with a single red rose.
A simple elegant romantic gesture to make me melt.
But it’s not to be.
Life, you have forsaken me.
Provide me some solace.
If I can’t have love, I want to be a hero.
Maybe my existence can truly be useful,
to positively affect and protect those who need me.
I would sacrifice myself in a flame of glory like an X-men.
If I can’t be loved then I want to be a star.
I require lots of attention and affection to be happy.
My wonderful fans would provide.
They would woo me; I would cherish them.
If I must be unloved without consolation,
then remove all feeling; make me a robot.
Turn me into an OZ tin woman.
I don’t need a heart.
It’s been wasted on those who won’t stay.
Life, return me to childhood exploits.
Then all I need to be happy is my teddy bear,
and I will ask nothing more.