Restless in nature, striving for more,
Counting the days, and pondering "what for?"
Illusions about love, not certain what I desire,
Still hoping to find, something to be admired.
Trust is not a friend of mine, but still,
Desperately desiring, to hear that famous line.
Lessons learned, but hesitantly I hold on,
Trying to imagine, that it may not be a con.
Wanting, again, to believe in the chance,
That there is, a possibility, for real romance.
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