It’s night again and I can’t sleep,

Though tired is my heart.

I’ve bid goodnight to all my friends,

Hoping to depart.

Yet down to rest I must refuse,

My mind’s unsettled mess

And lay aside today’s confusion,

With all of its distress.

For still stuck am I on that question:

“Do I love myself?”

For though I stretch my heart for others,

I set mine on a shelf.

It’s painful to admit,

But I know it’s true,

It’s harder to accept “me”

Than the most broken “you.”

It is not that I am terrible,

Or in some way worth less.

It’s just that I don’t think of me,

Enough to stress,

The things I want, I need and feel

The things I wish you’d tell

As I try to create your heaven,

While burning in my hell.

Again it’s not that I deserve

Or feel it’s justice due,

It’s that I’ve learned to think,

Of myself less than you.

So please remember,

As I’m trying to forget,

You meant the world to me,

Though we’ve never met.