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By wistful Date: 2001 Jun 01 Comment on this Work [[2001.06.01.22.27.22959]] |
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Behind each bitter, caustic mask Lies a ruefully romantic soul. Only from the deepest wells of passion Could you draw such loathsome ire. Expectations set beyond reality's bounds Are those that fall the farthest, And create craters, deep depressions, That slowly fill with bile and pain. But who would trade the chance To soar in blissful love-soaked ecstasy For a Novocain-injected heart? Better to know the heights and depths Of all your soul can stand Than to languish untouched, unmoved, Adrift without care or thought or connection. |