words on the wings of a blackbird
I hurt so much more when it rains
hidden inside behind her blue eyes
are the tales of grim, my dear fate.
I hope not too late for today and tomorrow
the virus inside us from yesterdays sorrows
Now to think it was me who planted first seed
now, indeed, I know that the sower was me
I pulled from my bag of my happiness feed
hoping to grow in love such a tree
boughs so strong they can weather the ages
from its branches could be written the pages
a story of love, of two souls in desire
but it turns out the bag of seed fell in fire
now when I'm me she will wallow in mire
in love but not quite, causing darkness to fill
that void in her heart where I used to live
trading calm for the qualm of a broken will
But with such a hope as my mind can perceive
a hope for a joy, I believe it indeed.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
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