The song of the heart,
Is not easy to hear.
It can be quick as a dart,
Fleeting just out of fear.
The pain of rejection,
Is too much to bear.
I’d prefer your affection,
Though you’d hardly care.
And a twinge of remorse,
Would be rather nice,
But that’d skew the course,
Of your cold chest of ice.
My chest is aflame,
It burns in the night,
But you scorn my name,
You killed Cupid’s flight.
And I have gone mad from this rabid chase,
Love lost is worse than the actual race.
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My Thoughts on the World and My Writing
The content of this journal can range from passing thoughts in the style of stream of conciousness to intense stories, poetries, and prose.
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Guardian of Agape
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