I wrote a song about my heart:

a little lonely from the start.

Wrote: ‘I don’t cry.  I don’t know how.’

But realize as I sit here now,

that’s all I ever do.

And I wrote a line about a star

That hate and love could never mar,

who gave light to the mountain and the sea,

who’s beautiful light was only for me:

the inconsolable child.

And I wrote about an evil force

who’d always throw me off my course.

But I’d get back on, wiser for the wear,

knowing I’d always end up back there,

or at least never far away.

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