It isn’t

I wrote this a long time ago when I was young and dumb but I saw something that may resonate:

I want to love so much.
I want to be loved so much.
I want to give what I can’t get… Ironic.
I have so much love to give.
God made me that way.
I have a tremendous heart for people.
That is such a gorgeous thing.
Too bad so few know me.
Too bad so few love me.
Who can really know anyone?
I think mysteries lie within every beating soul.
I believe people yearn to be known completely.
I believe people cry out for it yet fear it.
Behind each eye hides pain and fear and pride and hope.
Each heart can feel. Each eye can cry.
Each mind can laugh. Each skin can lie.
Within and without it all, one thing remains true.
God yearns for you.
He knows you. So help me, He knows me.
More than I or anyone could.
Pretend happens when we think anyone else does. Myth happens.
We want it to be true of another human being.
We want it to be true of us.
It isn’t.
I chased away a deception. I made it run away.
It was such a lovely deception.
I wish it were true. I wish it were true.
It isn’t.
It isn’t.
It isn’t.
It isn’t.
It isn’t.

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