Feeling empty and numb,Being unable to explain things ,Needing help but incapable of asking,Available and free but not reacheable,Searching for things but unknown of whatGetting hurt but wondering about pain,
May be old is what we don't prefer to be called,But have you wonder -How we love to rejoice calling our friendship, love, relations old.May be we are older that we thoughtOr may be we are younger than we thoughtAnd betweens the may be...sWe don't have ages...We only have moments.
You don't need acceptance to loveLove was there from our first laughter and every everafterLove was there in the silence between our conversation and in our every argument,Love was there in the fights we fought and the ones we denied,Love was,is and will be always thereWhat is not there is our acceptance for eachother.
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
I never lost as much but twice,And that was in the sod.Twice have I stood a beggarBefore the door of God!Angels -- twice descendingReimbursed my store --Burglar! Banker -- Father!I am poor once more!
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.