STOIC.

My head pulses like it is being pushed out in all sides.

Throbbing from vibrant tears I never once cried and never will.

A tear for the boy I won't meet doesn't hit the ground.

My wails for a perfect girl I shan't find are silent.

I lament these invisible feelings that cannot be shared,

though I could care less.

For I don't pity my least deserving self of all, I am perfect.