In the strength of this day,
In the weakness of this day,
This is my weakness,
You are my weakness.
Sweet and terrible,
Blissfully agonizing,
A stake to the heart,
All because of the self-decided
“wait.”
In the summer breeze,
When the wounds go up in flames,
And the brows furrow again,
And the tears crease and they bend,
Across the stubborn lips
The beginning of the end.
And the days grow short, while the
nights seem longer,
A crowd of April leaves and flowers
have gone away for May,
And the June had said that this was “unsafe,”
And they blamed this man—charged
with theft,
“Of the heart” they said.
Mistreated, and in the dark
Without the chance to really blossom
It’s almost too far
While the treble begins to tremble,
And the hands can no longer speak
To the deaf, dumb, and blind.
Because, because, because,
He is losing.
He is losing,
She has lost
She is lost.
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