All but a
shattered heart
Spiraled in
vines of aching pain,
Punctured with
doubtful darts
Again, yet
again, all over again.
These hands you once called yours
Trembled into an untimely cold,
Must you let them slide into yours
And so foolishly refuse to hold?
Such a young
spirited soul then
Now trapped
beneath a thousand chains,
After all
every story must come to end
Again, yet
again, all over again.
