Wednesday, February 28, 2007

From the frying pan

Here is one, written on the 7th of Feb. I cant think of an apt title. And I am too satiated to make that effort now.

I try to understand. I try to reason.
I try to laugh my way through. I try to contain.
I give my love. I give my soul.
And if you ask, I will give you more.
But still you hurt me with words and deeds,
Heedless of my heart that pleads.
But this song was never meant to be sung,
But from where has this hope sprung?
Hope is for those who see the light,
Hope is for those who want to fight.
I am blind as you can see,
And to fight there's no strength in me.
Yet there burns a little fire,
Fuelled by my desire,
I am alive for it burns,
But alas, it burns me alive.

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