Be still, my
breaking heart, unravel
the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the core
is made of string
easily cut by
hands that I know
Be still, my
breaking heart, do not
unravel the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the feeling is
what keeps me alive,
the core is made of
string I'd like cut by
hands that I know
Be still, my
breaking heart, may
you be at peace with
the death of
a kindred flower I
could not care for
in the right way, for
I tried, although
it was not enough.
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