Come lay your head in my lap, little one

And tell me of the world that trampled your dreams

Come lay your head in my lap, little one

And tell me of the words which broke your heart

There is nothing more tragic

than an empty box of chocolates.

There is nothing more frustrating,

and there is nothing more depressing.

It is ache, walking a solitary path,

listening to the whispers of dry leaves.

It is steel, coldly shackling the feet,

painting red the shadows of eves.

Longing is an ache,

walking a lonely path,

covered with fallen leaves.

Longing is steel,

shackled to my feet,

painting red the shadows of eves.

Neither you were broken, nor I, when I met you first

Only the mirror was broken into a thousand pieces

Neither you were defeated, nor I, when I saw you first

Only the world was folded into a thousand creases

Once there was……………………………

too less a time and much to do.

Too little air and much to breathe.

Too less a space and much to woo.

Too little energy and much to reap.

Too limited a vision and much to see.

Too small a mind and much to learn.

Too limited a wisdom and much taken to be free.

Too small a choice and many boats to burn.

The house of God was in order, bowing angels in attendance.

Death begged admittance, wrapped intimately in dark shadows.

“What do you want ….. the most despised conception of mine?”,

the Godly voice thundered.

Let you and me sit in the dark glen of misery

And play the sad and bitter, symphony of loss

Let you and me pluck the strings of our tired hearts

And carve our names in wet green moss

How can you burn me in hell,

when I am already burning?

Slowly turning over and over again,

on the bright red spit of regret.

It’s all in the eyes and I see eyes all around.

Happy and sad eyes, good and bad eyes.

Tired and watchful eyes, hungry and soulful eyes.

Lustful and virtuous eyes, dreaming and tempestuous eyes.