If I could light a fire with tears,

I promise you I would.

If I could cleanse myself of fears,

I’d do it if I could.

If rain drops flew from earth to sky

and pets lived on, never to die –

it would have happened if they should.

If shards of heart could paint the sun,

would they exist if they could?

If teardrops dried the stormy sea,

would we see as we should?

If deafened voice could mute the cheer

and darkened mind made to see clear,

things could not be just as they would.

Now speckled flecks of wasted blood,

time flows out from veins like mud;

if I did things as best I could,

does that really mean I should?


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