The writing's on the wall,
It's been there for quite some time.
It comes in such sweet verses,
All wrapped up in a rhyme.
The song inside me's bleeding,
Crimson streaming from my veins.
Dripping to puddles of emptiness
Where aching confusion reigns.
For with the love I have to offer,
I've found none with whom to share.
None who could possibly appreciate it,
Or even lift a brow to show they care.
And there's a blessing turning to stone
By the scourge of growing proud.
Something sacred within me dying
With mistrusted vows spoken aloud.
And the bitter taste inside my mouth
Has poisoned my mind and tongue
Into thinking life has passed me by,
Though, really, I'm still quite young.
For what good is love if but rejected?
What good is time spent all alone?
Or the sorrow devised by the sweet lies
Of this curse to which I'm prone?
For the demons dance around my cage
Teasing with that sultry touch.
But the lioness eyes, and alibis
Fail to be a worthy crutch.
Oh, is it an obsession, a dream, a spell
To believe someone's really out there -
Who, without retraction, could share my love
Without filling my life with despair?
[This message has been edited by Michael (edited 08-30-99).]