As close as I beleive we were
as much a one I thought we are.
It seems there has become
a gap so far in between us.
With a bridge that I cannot cross
will not burn or accept.

Our worlds on the opposing sides
are as varied between.
As the sheep from the cunning wolf
or noon to clouded night.

With your friends I do not fit in
am not counted in and among.
In your excitements drab
left to self without a pleasure.
May hap could I have been wrong
when the gap I denied.

I would deny you not a thing
for there in this is truth.
Should I expect naught in return
by the fates hand played out.