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.
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