How bittersweet the moments
'tween our first breath and our last--
The smallest thorn a hole can rent,
release unwant'd ghosts of past.
For once your mind has wrapped around
the thought of something greater,
the world always comes crashing down--
you cannot help but hate Her.
The songs we sing, the joy we bring
is invariably fleeting
no matter who or what you are
it's Death you will be meeting.
Clasp hands but for a moment,
if you find love, don't let it go.
The smallest thorn a hole can rent--
what would have happened you can never know.
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