What if
What, If sorrows have a name,
what would it be?
Would it be silence?
For it speaks without words,
Every breath I take,
feels the hollow of heart.
What, If sorrows have a face,
what would it look like?
Would it be pale and tender,
hidden behind every face,
That everyone wants to hide?
Would it be beautiful and ugly?
Perhaps both, for it paints in life.
And if kind and ferocious?
Both again,
It breathes both in every breath.
Oh how I wish I could see,
with my eyes, not feeling it;
To hold in my hand and set it free.
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