I now write from oldest dreams,
With gentle thoughts and hateful sins,
Words from yet another’s view,
Always felt… always new.

“People always search for love,
Someone only they can “see”
Worthy of the word above,
Someone that will always be.

But that search is always hell
Its success… a rare bunce,
Some will find and feel to tell
While some will never feel it once.”

…

And I heard another thing
From this soul with just one wing,
He seemed happy when he told
These few words that felt so old.

“I just love my mother’s smile,
It’s pure proof of all good…
And all I see seems so worthwhile
Just as everything should.

But today her smile fades
And I know I’m one to blame,
And I know that nothing aids,
And all will never be the same.”

…

He still had words in his heart,
Words that I kept writing down,
He told me something from the start…
That her tears will make him drown.

“She was still trying to smile,
Always saying “nothing’s wrong”,
She even had me fooled a while,
She had always been so strong.

But she smiled with dry eyes,
Oh, how I’d take away her fears!
She had failed all her tries,
Oh, how I hate those fucking tears!”

…

He promised:
“I will run that extra mile,
Never will she suffer,
No more tears will break her smile,
I’ll always love my mother.”

…

I didn’t write… I told.