Some their hearts are deadened With affairs hot and ill-conceived Others with a long, slow march Alone across the seas We want to feel and long to dream But are trained with constant pain To open is to be attacked To hope is to be accused To dream is to be abandoned To love is to be abused Small wonder so few find true joy Great wonder those love more than few I try to crack my gnarled shell But my heart this release refuses I cannot see the world anew
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This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2004