In deepest willows, of deepest sights
the world grows colder, the sun grows bright
with cutting sorrows, and lucious pain,
my world becomes smaller, my heart beats naught again.
love is eternal, but who lives for love?
life is so much more...
but who denies the eternal truth,
naught you, nor I, and certainly not
what awaits us all.
sorrows as deep as the river styx,
woes as long as time itself,
who is to deny an eternal truth,
when eternity is just a myth?
the world grows colder, the sun grows bright
with cutting sorrows, and lucious pain,
my world becomes smaller, my heart beats naught again.
love is eternal, but who lives for love?
life is so much more...
but who denies the eternal truth,
naught you, nor I, and certainly not
what awaits us all.
sorrows as deep as the river styx,
woes as long as time itself,
who is to deny an eternal truth,
when eternity is just a myth?
for some reason this poem seems useless... god, how much this resembels how I feel right now... I guess I'm just really stressed... I'll probably get over it.
