What I feel cannot be said
And from my heart, the crimson red
Stains on a sheet of an empty bed
From deepest depths, my soul has bled
Oh what a trying life we lead
We suffer well, strive to succeed
An insatiable hunger we fail to feed
An ever present yearning and a constant need
To cling to hope, to believe
That the heart does not deceive
And all the beauty we perceive
Will never cease, and on my sleeve
I wear this thing, so frail and weak
And think the thoughts I fail to speak.
~
