When it seems you might not have a friend,
Or that what friendship you may have is dry
Of deep connections; that, although you try,
The hours you inevitably spend
With others leave you empty, feeling penned
Within the fence of options you'd defy
If you knew how; if every pent-up sigh
Must stay inside, since nobody will lend
A sympathetic ear, remember this:
The world may be a far from ideal place,
And even better spots may sometimes miss
Perfection, even in things primal, base,
And necessary; but, lest you forget
I'll still be there across the Internet.
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