Revelation

What more have we to write about? Waters rippling from thrown stones? And what of passion or true love Found only through lasting pain. The aches suffered throughout the times Will surface forevermore, Relentless to our fighting urge To suppress the burn once more. Stabbing at our beating hearts A strike merely meant to wound So as to heal, so as to learn From the pasts we live within, Trapped like a mouse inside a maze Which has no exit nor light; A lonely soul left to wander 'round 'Til it finds a wall to sob near. What more have we to write of, You ask? No, what more have we to see.