I am sadder than you could imagine,
and I have done worse things than I would care to admit.
I am gripped by the shame,
and like a vengeful ghost,
I turn my sweet hand
against me -
to leave me wounded on a road.

I am sadder than you could know,
but my eyes dart first to the gutter
and with a small hushed whimper I let out -
the oozing guilt of secrets, the unknown.

I am sad, I am sad,
as I move slowly than the others,
and I can only look down when there is talk.
Like a transparent, bleeding being I am lost.

I have a deep sadness that is like no other,
which goes further than the soul,
and like a feather that fell there,
long before I arose -
it tickles at my heart palace of stone.