:Surely, that is the worst punishment, to be held captive in a place that once granted you comfort, :Now it was cold, causing my body to rack with coughs, :For I am a careless tourist here in a wide, empty forest of “lonesome,”
:I stare, and I touch, and yet I cannot feel, :My heart is a locked door, to which the key has been burnt in the flames of my fear, :Now it was but ashes embarrassing me, torturing me to this day,
:I feel as if the full throbbing of my heart is satisfactory, :It shows me I am living, :While I am living, I believe I have the chance to change,
:So I wait, :I wait, and wait, and wait, :For the day I would hear the beat of my brutally shattered and beaten heart rise and give me strength over again, :So I wait, believing in my heart. . .