Oh gene, is it thy need ?
That makes my heart, bleed.
Or soul do you exist ?
To make us with love, persist .
What makes us swell with joy;
And subsequently, cry
And makes us somehow feel
That love can please, can heal ?
Why memories just would linger;
Of joy and sorrrow, bringer...
who holds the treacherous twine
who chose the pain to be mine ?
Who makes me see that only
feel in crowds, lonely
No logic to it, no art;
And so I wish, that I had no heart.
Posted: 5/18/10, 6:49 PM
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