Mine to bear

Amour, ‘tis mine to bear.
Alas! Am I turning mad?
Oh, don’t you shed a tear.
I’m just a lost young lad.

Inside the mind’s lair,
’tis a word the soul had.
For what do I even care?
Inside out I’m not this bad.

I don’t see ‘em a pair,
’tis not me who is eerie sad.
’tis a deposition of despair—
against one who’ll never be glad.