Dilemma

What do you say When tree leaves fall in spring And the heart becomes ice Amidst the flowers of May Will the answer Love is never enough Be good enough To patch the wounds of hope? Or shall I tell them We are worthless bleached of all the savour Of knowing our fault In that mirror that sees no self, but the other? You do not know the pain Of knowing which way to go When no one else can believe but you. Every game of survival is not a game For we do move until We have left something precious behind. I am tired of leaving so much of me. Inside a man's chest there is an archive Of so many unforgotten things, And I feel the air there struggling With every rib extracted like a tooth. I use to it though My demise makes so many false heroes, People who lie to have their own way And keep the facade of morality still. I give them their desire voluntarily, Since I do not cause any such pain By forcing them to commend my wrongs. They come back to me again - Not the flowers and bird song Not the child left laughing on the shore Not the dreams like kite strings Tangled in time's brambled tree. It is such a weight, the richness of memory. Old men are stronger when young Wiser when old And both still tremble in the shivering cold.