Patterns

The clouds in the once-sunny sky
Mirror my tragic luck.
Though, luck is not the correct term
For the state of things as they are...

This reeks of times before,
Patterns set in stone long before I came.
Why? Why must I subscribe to these?
For whence my heart turns to her,
She's invariably found someone new.

Any love, any time, any beautiful young man...
I am cast aside by distance, care, or beauty
Without any concern or worry for
The sorry state into which I fall.

Barren is my lonely heart--
And patterns are to blame.
For well I know the truth of my life,
"Once my heart turns her way,
She turns the other."

--C.R.E.