Letters from the deepest concern,
Words that flow through without discern
Like arrows into your heart,
The fear so great, it could take you apart
Dying to see, your pretty face,
which words, in no possible ways,
could explain to me
How it is irony,
That it is the same words, that took you from me?
Is it really the sentences that hurt,
Is love less worth than a word?
How could one mistake,
take vengeance in its wake
If to get you back I had one last chance,
If in my words I could fit my wits ends
Would love not be sweeter?
Last sentences,
like the mourns of a dying soul
How is it right,
to trade your love for a foe?
As the final hymns sound,
We pray that lost love will be found
In that miracle,
The last sentence...
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