Why try?

If the sun melts, what do we have that can make it bloom?

As the tears shed the pain one witnesses in despair,
why try to mend the breaks of love?

Although the drive back to the common good is best picked by the hurt, why is the love yet tainted still around?

i watch in pain as the suspicions become facts,
the blood coils and boils to a point of bitter contempt and anquish.

Why must one wait for the inevitable?

Must the soul be cleansed of such innocence to relieve thy self and those you supposedly care for?

Thy dignity and thy love for pain outweigh the virtues of forgiveness that the time has come to shed what has made one passive.

For if one more ounce of acceptance would the soul once again dine to the supposed love of thy life expressed in the passiveness of thee

I forever will wonder what thy supposed love will do with herself as the years age and blend my sight with anew,

God help me...