1,2...

A rush of sorrow is lying beneath my skin.
It is beyond what has happened,
what was said,
or done.

There is a stream of aching that invades my heart.
Has me flooded in tears,
making my bones weak,
my muscles collapse,
and I fall to the ground.

I listen to the ground.
Like I picture myself resting upon your gentle heart.
1,2
1,2
1,2
1,2

Why do I feel so much?
A lady once told me: that's your gift, and your doom.
I never believe that, 
could anything be more cliché? 

How is it that we live as immortals,
love with no heart,
care with no hands,
and think with no mind?

Pain is beautiful.
Joy is beautiful,
but Peace and Truth are holy.

I wish to breathe in white,
I wish to step on green,
and bathe in blue.
Be warm in yellow,
and love,
laugh,
in red.

Maybe it is what has happened,
what was said,
and done.

I just will not follow.

I will not settle to the rotten desires that respond to,
selfish,
heartless,
senseless,
hurtful,
bickering and winning.

I will not settle,
not to the empty words that speak of violence,
disguised in quotidian,
common,
conventional,
dialogue.

The truth is:
I'm tired.
But I'm hopeful.
This heart of mine won't surrender.
I'll stand in my integrity.