The world is a cruel place for a kind heart
which is a wise thought, which life taught
me when my kind heart got lost
in a mind dark. Life always defines art
it is refined, smart, pierces through lies sharp.
Those standing in the light are always surrounded by night, marked.
Cursed is the kind heart to always feel the cold of the world,
cursed to try and survive by his own warmth.
To try and thrive despite being shunned by He who shines in the sky
ignored by She who gave Earth life.
We try to surpass the sky just as we strive for truth.
The kind heart remains old through youth.
As kids we played yet we say we had a philosophical childhood.
Death surrounds us as we surround death.
It never dares intrude our space, it never dares to take.
It can only give, as we play a game
a kind heart is like Death, we will both never change.