Lonely womnan 

Bitterness

Am I a bitter man?

What would I be bitter for?

For being young sometimes fails to understand.

The way it is with life and the way it is with me.

I feel no love from up above.

Yet deep in my consicousness I know she does.

Does what I say with love today?

Go away, go away, unless you can pay

I've paid with my heart and with my soul.

The music that I felt is no longer in control.

Of my life and my passion

Maybe I will find some fashion

In this small little thing

In this small but yet big little world.

Which exsists beyond

With my heart attached

On my shoulder it once sat

Till it got crushed with the fact

Of love and it's exsistence

Is merely an act of torture

Not tortue of my soul

But torture of the kindred

Spirit unknown to me

In the midst of this angst

Must I, Shall I, will I

Ever love again?

Was I ever really in this love

of hypnotic torture?

This bird has taken my hurt and soul

Away with it. Away with her.

For I am a writer of immense porpotions.

Is that not the word to describe distortion.

For I always do, pick the wrong shoe.

Only from inside will I ever know the truth