Another day passes for me to rest. Years go by without her love for me is a test. I hold my soul at best, least I follow. I am but left empty and hollow. Her warmth and gentle nature so sublime, the taste of her lips makes stand still the sands of time. As poetry and rhyme with memories is I have left. I await anxiously for my death. Love is indeed cruel when her heart you can no longer cherish. Your soul to the gallows sent to perish. I seek her presence I admire her beauty from afar. I look back at the past and count in abundance the scars that remain. All you feel is despair and pain. Her voice rings in your ears. No longer can you catch every tear, you fear yourself losing hoping. Praying so earnestly for her happiness as if you were the pope. She was as will be embedded in my soul till the day your body grows stiff and cold. Tis not a test tis but a love story lost throughout the world that rests. Like a harvest of crops she is near she indeed no longer your future. As her hair no longer remains on your face to tickle and make you groan. She is still the flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone. Tis the loveless burden I have borne.
Written and composed by
Timothy Justin Rudolph Rodricks
