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Broken heart and tears upon my hollow cheek
The whisper of night through the swaying trees
Alone I weep amongst the deepened shadows
Life long regret has driven me to my knees
What weight bears my tattered and empty soul?
Was there not a single act thought a favored deed?
My memories hold me bound and frozen here
Lost and stunned - no will, care, or even need
I remember well those who held my love besieged
With kindness gave and I heartless on every turn deny
Who will speak my witness in this darkened place?
For their true and faultless love what, pray, gave I?
How long have I been this worn and dreadful state?
When did I last see the rising sun’s cheerful light?
I will not allow such joy to shine upon my face
Only here the morning fades to an endless night
So pale ill was I upon my sweat drenched bed
My soul darkened by every vain and cruel misstep
In Hell my sickened dreams did nightly cast me
For I could nary deem life’s purpose as of yet
One night upon my pillow I heard deaths rattle clear
So frightened was my faithless mind that I ran away
Lest the Holy Reeve, I would gainsay, should call me
To make account and hear the guileful tales to lay
For those wary living souls in this very house reside
A moan and creak upon the stairs by moonless night
‘Tis the make of dread that binds me to this cursed world
A coward’s ghost sore afraid of heavens goodly light
Why is doing what you love the hardest thing to do? Is it because failing what you thought defined you would be too devastating a thing from which to recover? If so, we stay where mere accident has left us.