There'd be no one
around as to your heart
you speak-- each life
from others hangs apart-

the past still knocks
at the door-- it does demand
to be heard-- time slows down
the present pauses to understand-

the self stands alone
zig-saw puzzles they aggrieve
reason is a poor solver
only confusion it does give-

ah, the stricken heart
how little does it know of rest
chocked for words in doubt
by burden so heavily oppressed.