Queen of broken hearts and persuasion
Men are seductively led by her charm...

Painfully wiping away my memories
With tissues drenched in tears...

My seeping scars have now mended
The tears subside long enough to speak...

In life we worry what people think
In death we worry about our deeds...

I am no sculpter
I am no painter...

As i lay on my bed crying
The covers swallow me whole...

Your eyes bore into my skull
Trying to find a passion not there...

In a place with no water
A flower will die and turn to dust...

My own aged guilt rises past me in agony
Feeding off my own blood sweat and tears...

Falling with each convulsing sob
My tears form in serenaded chaos...

No words that i write
No song i can sing...

Head pressed to the tile
Kissing the aged grout...