We want it
So bad 
Yet,
Every time it shows up...
It's in front of us,
On our door step,
Covered with roses
And bows.

We can't accept it,
We run from it,
Finding every reason
To reject it.

As though,
Giving justification
As to why
Why we don't conceive to it
In the first place...

For we seek it
In all the wrong places,
In fear of finding it
On all the right places.

As though,
Proving it's
Unattainability...
Single-handedly
Denoting its impossibility.

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