I have no faith in men or love. I learned
my lesson well - all lovers leave somehow.
Even those who swear they'll stay til death with bow
out then, if not before. My mind has turned
the thought of love into a willing lie,
and rightly so. A fool might sit and dream
his life away on faded old sunbeams
but I have words to waste instead of sighs.
And in the lonely night that brings me down
beyond the pull of truth I build the ash
of hope into a pyre to burn the rash
impudent throughts away. I find I'll drown
my hope in any way I can to cut
the chance of pain and force my heart's door shut.
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