Love is painful, an emotion immeasurable,
It inflicts tortures deepest to the core,
Yet a heart as delicate as a petal,
Can do nothing, just cherish, wish, and hope,
And carry on loving more and more...
Why does the blood seep in so deep within?
It is love, because of which it is crying,
It bleeds so hurtful again and again,
Its soaking, it never seems to be drying...
Love touches everyone, creates more passion,
Only this heart so soft and tender,
A part of life that is gods own creation,
Sheds tears, a worthless pretender...
Why me, the lord chose to be born,
Didn't he know this heart is forgiving?
Still taken for granted, used and thrown,
It is love that's given them all the right,
A passion of time, a passion for surviving,
Yet no trace of a future strong and bright...
This heart that is already shattered to pieces,
Will keep on living in a dream so sweet,
In hopes that time, as slow, just ceases,
And lives the dreams of unfulfilled realities…
Through concealed, painful, misted tears,
The world outside is cruel and mean,
Yet the heart does cry, sings along with fear,
But under the skin, pray it remains serene...