The strange kinds of inessential love.

In search for solace, i look everywhere
The times are never hard but i still keep looking

The places I have never seen
The things that were never done
The people that i always want
They give me hope.
The feeble kind which rests the threatening fear.

What's so wrong when everything is right
that you always have to look for a place?

Always on the look out here and there but never brave enough to look inside?