There are times when fury consumes
Like a colossal wave, it engulfs the soul
Then, the travesty of pretense resumes
Every time the heart takes over, its role
Rationale takes a backseat
As hate brims over the bowl
And then, the heart squeezes a little more
Why can’t there be more room for one’s own?
The maddening parody continues
Between the heart and the soul
There is no more room for absolution
Will the soul ever speak, for its own?
There are days when I wonder
Why is there no peace for the soul?
The answer it gives makes me ponder,
Will the heart ever forgive the errors of its own?