Here am I The man with the life of a namless peasant. I feel the need to speak
Yet only with the fear that you will refuse to hear Nor shall you attempt to comprehend. As I draw close Your vain pushes us farther apart With every small step I lose balance and Shatter. Yet now, had you just now asked for me With the want to hear from me? You look at me when I tell you, With every deep emotion lacerated on the skin of my slow beating heart, That a life without love Is not much a life at all. So, I need not life to life but you. Body. Heart. Soul. Yet your pride is so strong, And I am left-rejected within the apitamy of my despair. Now, you carry the burdon of my tears, The burdon of my Anguish. And as I leave you with this final goodbye Soon you shall be carrying the burdon of that namless soul Whose life was your love, Whose death was of your Malice.