Was Love Faulty, Or Him?

Maybe choices truly were a thing,
But for him,
Choices were non-existent.
Everything had changed,
Just like the people he had believed in.
Betrayal stared right at him,
Not daring to blink,
Waiting for him to make a fool of himself,
And he could have,
If restraint wasn’t so common.

He looked at her,
At him and at them,
Wondering when this pain,
Had become his daily injection of happiness.
He knew his smiles,
Would never be genuine again,
And his tears,
Only his pillow could see them in the dark.

He wanted a world that understood him,
But he got a world that didn’t care one bit,
One that lived on grace,
But only when the pain overpowered their senses.
And so just like every night,
He cried for things that would probably never be,
For a love he would only watch in movies,
For everything he had given,
And the nothing he had gotten,
All the while,
Cursing himself for loving too much.

But maybe his heart had given in this time,
Maybe he was ready for the pain,
Then again,
No one would ever be ready for pain,
Because pain broke people,
And he was on top of pain’s favorite people’s list,
Just like he always had been,
For the past seven years.
Maybe love truly was a waste of time,
But was it love,
Or was it the people he fell in love with?