I seem to be lost, within myself
here is sorrow, there is poetry
I pass a cage of regrets,
clawmarks score the walls
tears again, they are born here too.

The root of my art resides here,
the shining numbness of
being rained on so hard,
that you become part of the storm,
and see the wisdom of the elements.

The need to create, and build,
the tools are all here.
And the devil that dispenses them
or an angel, without care.

And in the centre, a beating heart
cold and blue
the goddesses took it for their own
and my own true love, I gave it to

Now it's my own again
and with it, I made everything
and, even if it is broken...


I will bring it back!!!