Don't Dream of Women

Some days I sit and wonder,
whether or not I'm glad I found her.
By pure chance we talked,
and like all of them away she walked.
They say it's better to have loved and lost,
but they don't understand the cost.
The price I pay,
day after day.
I want to love I want to care,
I want the weight of another to bear.
But to lose so many times,
and to have done no crimes.
Honest, old fashioned and true,
completely abandoned for the new.
Pretty boys and men who can't carry a stick,
to them the women will run quite quick.
Time after time they are the winners,
time after time they are the sinners.
Yet I live alone and sad,
because I'm different, and quite frankly, mad.